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^^***^«»MI, 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT  OF 


Elizabeth  Buckingham 


{jrjidU'V^JL.cL  ^LO, 


Wonder  Book  6 

PEGASUS  AND  BELLEROPHON 


A  WONDER  BOOK 


FOR     GIRLS     AND     BOYS 


M 


BY 

NATHANIEL    HAWTHORNE 


ILLUSTRATED 


PHILADELPHIA 
HENRY      ALTEMUS       COMPANY 


EDUC- 

PSYCH. 

URPAPV 


GIFT 


EDUC- 

PSYCH. 

LIBRARY 


PREFACE. 


The  author  has  been  of  opinion  that  many  of  the 
classical  myths  were  capable  of  being  rendered  into 
very  capital  reading  for  children.  In  the  little  volume 
here  offered  to  the  public  he  has  worked  up  half  a 
dozen  of  them  with  this  end  in  view.  A  great  free- 
dom of  treatment  was  necessary  to  his  plan,  but  it 
will  be  observed  by  every  one  who  attempts  to  render 
these  legends  malleable  in  his  intellectual  furnace 
that  they  are  marvellously  independent  of  all  tempo- 
rary modes  and  circumstances.  They  remain  essen- 
tially the  same  after  changes  that  would  aSect  the- 
identity  of  almost  anything  else. 

He  does  not,  therefore,  plead  guilty  to  a  sacrilege 
in  having  sometimes  shaped  anew,  as  his  fancy  dic- 
tated, the  forms  that  have  been  hallowed  by  an  an- 
tiquity of  two  or  three  thousand  years.  No  epoch  of 
time  can  claim  a  copyright  in  these  immortal  fables. 
They  seem  never  to  have  been  made,  and  certainly, 
so  long  as  man  exists,  they  can  never  perish,  but  by 
their  indestructibility  itself  they  are  legitimate  sub- 

\       046 


6  PREFACE. 

jects  for  every  age  to  clothe  with  its  own  garniture  of 
manners  and  sentiment  and  to  imbue  with  its  own 
morality.  In  the  present  version  they  may  have  lost 
much  of  their  classical  aspect  (or,  at  all  events,  the 
author  has  not  been  careful  to  preserve  it),  and  have, 
perhaps,  assumed  a  Gothic  or  romantic  guise. 

In  performing  this  pleasant  task — for  it  has  been 
really  a  task  fit  for  hot  weather,  and  one  of  the  most 
agreeable,  of  a  literary  kind,  which  he  ever  undertook 
— the  author  has  not  always  thought  it  necessary  to 
write  downward  in  order  to  meet  the  comprehension 
of  children.  He  has  generally  suffered  the  theme  to 
soar  whenever  such  was  its  tendency,  and  when  he 
himself  was  buoyant  enough  to  follow  without  an 
effort.  Children  possess  an  unestimated  sensibility 
to  whatever  is  deep  or  high  in  imagination  or  feeling, 
so  long  as  it  is  simple  likewise.  It  is  only  the  arti- 
ficial and  the  complex  that  bewilder  them. 


I 
\ 


CONTENTS. 


Preface, ,       ,       .      5 

Tanglewood  Porch. 

Introductory  to  "The  Gorgon's  Head,**  •        •        •      9 

The  Gorgon's  Head     ..•••••    16 

Tanglewood  Porch. 

After  the  Story 61 

Shadow  Brook. 

Introductory  to  "The Golden  Touch,**     .        ,        .    55 

The  Golden  Touch 59 

Shadow  Brook. 

After  the  Story, 84 

The  Play-room. 

Introductory  to  "  The  Paradise  of  Children,  ** .        ,89 

The  Paradise  of  Chhj^ren 94 

The  Play-room. 

After  the  Story,        ....••.  118 


8  »  CONTENTS. 

The  Fireside.  page 

Introductory  to  "The Three  Golden  Apples,"  .  121 

The  Three  Golden  Apples 128 

The  Fireside. 

After  the  Story, 157 

The  Hill-side. 

Introductory  to  "The  Miraculous  Pitcher,*   «        .  161 

The  Miraculous  Pitcheb    ..,,..  165 

The  Hill- side. 

After  the  Story, >  193 

Bald  Summit. 

Introductory  to  "The  ChimaBra,**   «        p       •        .195 

The  ChD(Lsra,       .       •       •       •       o       •       •       .  199 

Bald  Summit. 

After  the  Story, 232 


TANGLEWOOD  PORCH. 

INTEODUCTOEY  TO  "  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 


»• 


Beneath  the  porch  of  the  country-seat  called 
Tanglewood  one  fine  autumnal  morning  was  assem- 
bled a  merry  party  of  little  folks,  with  a  tall  youth  in 
the  midst  of  them.  They  had  planned  a  nutting  ex- 
pedition, and  were  impatiently  waiting  for  the  mists 
to  roll  up  the  hill-slopes  and  for  the  sun  to  pour  the 
warmth  of  the  Indian  summer  over  the  fields  and 
pastures  and  into  the  nooks  of  the  many-colored 
woods.  There  was  the  prospect  of  as  fine  a  day  as 
ever  gladdened  the  aspect  of  this  beautiful  and  com 
fortable  world.  As  yet,  however,  the  morning  mist 
filled  up  the  whole  length  and  breadth  of  the  valley 
above  which,  on  a  gently  sloping  eminence,  the  man- 
sion stood. 

This  body  of  white  vapor  extended  to  within  less 
than  a  hundred  yards  of  the  house.  It  completely 
hid  everything  beyond  that  distance,  except  a  few 
Tuddy   or  yellow   tree-tops   which    here    and    there 


10  TANGLEWOOD  PORCH. 

emerged  and  were  glorified  by  the  early  sunshine,  as 
was  likewise  the  broad  surface  of  the  mist.  Four  or 
five  miles  off  to  the  southward  rose  the  summit  Oi 
3Ionument  Mountain,  and  seemed  to  be  floating  on  a 
cloud.  Some  fifteen  miles  farther  away,  in  the  same 
direction,  appeared  the  loftier  Dome  of  Taconic, 
looiiing  blue  and  indistinct,  and  hardly  so  substantial 
as  the  vapory  sea  that  almost  rolled  over  it.  The 
nearer  hills  which  bordered  the  valley  were  half-sub- 
merged, and  were  specked  with  little  cloud-wreaths 
all  the  way  to  their  tops.  On  the  whole,  there  was  so 
much  cloud  and  so  little  solid  earth  that  it  had  the 
€fiect  of  a  vision. 

The  children  above  mentioned,  being  as  full  of  life 
as  they  could  hold,  kept  overflowing  from  the  porch 
of  Tanglewood  and  scampering  along  the  gravel  walk 
or  rushing  across  the  dewy  herbage  of  the  lawn.  I 
can  hardly  tell  how  many  of  these  small  people  there 
were — not  less  than  nine  or  ten,  however,  nor  more 
than  a  dozen,  of  all  sorts,  sizes,  and  ages,  whether 
girls  or  boys.  They  were  brothers,  sisters,  and  cous- 
ins, together  with  a  few  of  their  young  acquaintances, 
who  had  been  invited  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pringle  to 
spend  some  of  this  delightful  weather  with  their  own 
children  at  Tanglewood.  I  am  afraid  to  tell  you 
their  names,  or  even  to  give  them  any  names  which 
other  children  have  ever  been  called  by,  because,  to 
my  certain  knowledge,  authors  sometimes  get  thdm- 


TANGLEWOOD  PORCH.  11 

selves  into  great  trouble  by  accidentally  giving  tht 
names  of  real  persons  to  the  characters  in  their  books. 
For  this  reason  I  mean  to  call  them  Primrose,  Peri*- 
winkle,  Sweet  Fern,  Dandelion,  Blue  Eye,  Clover^ 
Huckleberry,  Cowslip,  Squash- blossom.  Milk-weed^ 
Plantain,  and  Buttercup,  although,  to  be  sure,  such 
titles  might  better  suit  a  group  of  fairies  than  a  com- 
pany of  earthly  children. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  these  little  folks  Avere 
to  be  permitted  by  their  careful  fathers  and  mothers, 
uncles,  aunts,  and  grandparents  to  stray  abroad  into 
the  woods  and  fields  without  the  guardianship  of  some 
particularly  grave  and  elderly  person.  Oh,  no,  in- 
deed !  In  the  first  sentence  of  my  book  you  will 
recollect  that  I  spoke  of  a  tall  youth  standing  in  the 
midst  of  the  children.  His  name — and  I  shall  let 
you  know  his  real  name,  because  he  considers  it  a 
great  honor  to  have  told  the  stories  that  are  here  to 
be  printed — his  name  was  Eustace  Bright.  He  wa^ 
a  student  at  Williams  College,  and  had  reached,  . 
think,  at  this  period  the  venerable  age  of  eighteen 
years,  so  that  he  felt  quite  like  a  grandfather  toward 
Periwinkle,  Dandelion,  Huckleberry,  Squash-blos- 
som, Milk-weed,  and  the  rest,  who  were  only  half  or 
a  third  as  venerable  as  he.  A  trouble  in  his  eyesight 
(such  as  many  students  think  it  necessary  to  have, 
nowadays,  in  order  to  prove  their  diligence  at  their 
books)  had  kept  him  from  college  a  week  or  two  after 


12  TANGLEWOOD  PORCH. 

the  beginning  of  the  term.  But,  for  my  part,  I  have 
seldom  met  with  a  pair  of  eyes  that  looked  as  if  they 
could  see  farther  or  better  than  those  of  Eustace 
Bright. 

This  learned  student  was  slender  and  rather  pale, 
as  all  Yankee  students  are,  bat  yet  of  a  healthy  as- 
pect, and  as  light  and  active  as  if  he  had  wings  to 
his  shoes.  By  the  bye,  being  much  addicted  to  wad- 
ing through  streamlets  and  across  meadows,  he  had 
put  on  cowhide  boots  for  the  expedition.  He  wore  a 
linen  blouse,  a  cloth  cap,  and  a  pair  of  green  specta- 
cles, which  he  had  assumed,  probably,  less  for  the 
preservation  of  his  eyes  than  for  the  dignity  that  they 
imparted  to  his  countenance.  In  either  case,  how- 
ever, he  might  as  well  have  let  them  alone,  for 
Huckleberry,  a  mischievous  little  elf,  crept  behind 
Eustace  as  he  sat  on  the  steps  of  the  porch,  snatched 
the  spectacles  from  his  nose,  and  clapped  them  on  her 
own ;  and  as  the  student  forgot  to  take  them  back, 
they  fell  off  into  the  grass  and  lay  there  till  the  next 
spring. 

Kow,  Eustace  Bright,  you  must  know,  had  won 
great  fam.e  among  the  children  as  a  narrator  of  won- 
derful stories;  and  though  he  sometimes  pretended  to 
be  annoyed  when  they  teased  him  for  more  and  more, 
and  always  for  more,  j^et  I  really  doubt  whether  he 
liked  anything  quite  so  well  as  to  tell  them.  You 
might   have   seen  his  eyes  twinkle,  therefore,  when 


TANGLEWOOD  PORCH.  13 

Clover,  Sweet  Fern,  Cowslip,  Buttercup,  and  most  of 
their  playmates  besought  him  to  relate  one  of  his 
stories  while  they  were  waiting  for  the  mist  to  clear 
up. 

"Yes,  Cousin  Eustace,"  said  Primrose,  who  was  a 
bright  girl  of  twelve,  with  laughing  eyes  and  a  nose 
that  turned  up  a  little,  "  the  morning  is  certainly  the 
best  time  for  the  stories  with  which  you  so  often  tire 
out  our  patience.  We  shall  be  in  less  danger  of 
hurting  your  feelings  by  falling  asleep  at  the  most 
interesting  points — as  little  Cowslip  and  I  did  last 
night." 

"  Naughty  Primrose!"  cried  Cowslip,  a  cliild  of  six 
years  old ;  "  I  did  not  fall  asleep,  and  I  only  shut  my 
eyes  so  as  to  see  a  picture  of  what  Cousin  Eustace 
was  telling  about.  His  stories  are  good  to  he*"^'  at 
night,  because  we  can  dream  about  them  asleep;  and 
good  in  the  morning  too,  because  then  we  can  dream 
about  them  awake.  So  I  hope  he  will  tell  us  one  this 
very  minute." 

"Thank  you,  my  little  Cowslip,"  said  Eustace; 
"  certainly  you  shall  have  the  best  story  I  can  think 
of,  if  it  were  only  for  defending  me  so  well  from  that 
naughty  Primrose.  But,  children,  I  have  already 
told  you  so  many  fairy  tales  that  I  doubt  whether 
there  is  a  single  one  which  you  have  not  heard  at 
least  twice  over.  I  am  afraid  you  will  fall  asleep  in 
reality  if  I  repeat  any  of  them  again." 


14  TANGLEWOOD  PORCH. 

"No,  no,  no!"  cried  Bine  Eye,  Periwinkle,  Plan- 
tain, and  half  a  dozen  others.  "  We  like  a  story  all 
the  better  for  having  heard  it  two  or  three  times 
before." 

And  it  is  a  truth  as  regards  children  that  a  story 
seems  often  to  deepen  its  mark  in  their  interest,  not 
merely  by  two  or  three,  but  by  numberless,  repeti- 
tions. But  Eustace  Bright,  in  the  exuberance  of  his 
resources,  scorned  to  avail  himself  of  an  advantage 
which  an  older  story-teller  would  have  been  glad  to 
grasp  at. 

"It  would  be  a  great  pity,"  said  he,  "if  a  man  of 
my  learning,  to  say  nothing  of  original  fancy,  could 
not  find  a  new  story  every  day,  year  in  and  year  out, 
for  children  such  as  you.  I  will  tell  you  one  of  the. 
nursery  tales  that  were  made  for  the  amusement  of 
our  great  old  grandmother,  the  Earth,  when  she  was 
a  child  in  frock  and  pinafore.  There  are  a  hundred 
such,  and  it  is  a  wonder  to  me  that  they  have  not 
long  ago  been  put  into  picture-books  for  little  girls 
and  boys.  But,  instead  of  that,  old  gray-bearded 
grandsires  pore  over  them  in  musty  volumes  of  Greek 
and  puzzle  themselves  w4th  trying  to  find  out  when 
and  how  and  for  w^hat  they  were  made." 

"Well,  well,  well,  well.  Cousin  Eustace!"  cried  all 
the  children  at  once;  "talk  no  more  about  your 
etories,  but  begin." 

*'Sit  down,  then,  every  soul  of  you,''  scid  Eustace 


TANGLEWOOD  PORCH.  15 

Bright,  "  and  be  all  as  still  as  so  many  mice.  At  the 
slightest  interruption,  whether  from  great,  naughty 
Primrose,  little  Dandelion,  or  any  other,  I  shall  bite 
the  story  short  off  between  my  teeth  and  swallow  the 
untold  part.  But,  in  the  first  place,  do  any  of  you 
know  what  a  Gorgon  is?" 

"  I  do,"  said  Primrose. 

"Then  hold  your  tongue,"  rejoined  Eustace,  who 
had  rather  she  would  have  known  nothing  about  the 
matter.  "Hold  all  your  tongues,  and  I  shall  tell  you 
a  sweet  pretty  story  of  a  Gorgon's  head." 

And  so  he  did,  as  you  may  begin  to  read  on  the 
next  page.  Working  up  his  sophomorical  erudition 
with  a  good  deal  of  tact,  and  incurring  great  obliga- 
tions to  Professor  Anthon,  he  nevertheless  disregarded 
all  classical  authorities  whenever  the  vagrant  audacity 
o£  his  imagination  impelled  him  to  do  so. 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 


Perseus  was  the  son  of  Danae,  who  was  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  king,  and  when  Perseus  was  a  very  little  boy 
some  wicked  people  put  his  mother  and  himself  into 
a  chest  and  set  them  afloat  upon  the  sea.  The  wind 
blew  freshly  and  drove  the  chest  away  from  the  shore, 
and  the  uneasy  billows  tossed  it  up  and  down,  while 
Danae  clasped  her  child  closely  to  her  bosom,  and 
dreaded  that  some  big  wave  would  dash  its  foamy 
crest  over  them  both.  The  chest  sailed  on,  however, 
and  neither  sank  nor  was  upset,  until,  when  night 
was  coming,  it  floated  so  near  an  island  that  it  got 
entangled  in  a  fisherman's  nets  and  was  drawn  out 
high  and  dry  upon  the  sand.  The  island  was  called 
Seriphus,  and  it  was  reigned  over  by  King  Polydec- 
tes,  who  happened  to  be  the  fisherman's  brother. 

This  fisherman  was  an  exceedingly  humane  and 
upright  man.  He  showed  great  kindness  to  Danae 
and  her  little  boy,  and  continued  to  befriend  them 
until  Perseus  had  grown  to  be  a  handsome  youth, 
very  strong  and  active  and  skilful  in  the  use  of  arms. 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  17 

Long  before  this  time  King  Polydectes  had  seen  the 
two  strangers — the  mother  and  her  child — who  had 
come  to  his  dominions  in  a  floating  chest.  As  he 
was  not  good  and  kind  like  his  brother  the  fisherman, 
but  extremely  wicked,  he  resolved  to  send  Perseus  on 
a  dangerous  enterprise,  in  which  he  would  probably 
be  killed,  and  then  to  do  sojne  great  mischief  to 
Danae  herself.  So  this  bad-hearted  king  spent  a  long 
while  in  considering  what  was  the  most  dangerous 
thing  that  a  young  man  could  possibly  undertake  to 
perform.  At  last,  having  hit  upon  an  enterprise  that 
promised  to  turn  out  as  fatally  as  he  desired,  he  sent 
for  the  youthful  Perseus. 

The  young  man  came  to  the  palace  and  found  the 
king  sitting  upon  his  throne. 

"Perseus,"  said  King  Polydectes,  smiling  craftily 
upon  him,  "you  are  grown  up  a  fine  young  man. 
You  and  your  good  mother  have  received  a  great  deal 
of  kindness  from  myself,  as  well  as  from  my  worthy 
brother  the  fisherman,  and  I  suppose  you  would  not 
be  sorry  to  repay  some  of  it." 

"Please,  your  majesty,"  answered  Perseus,  '"I 
would  willingly  risk  my  life  to  do  so." 

"Well,  then,"  continued  the  king,  still  with  a  cun- 
ning smile  on  his  lips,  "  I  have  a  little  adventure  to 
propose  to  you;  and,  as  you  are  a  brave  and  enter- 
prising youth,  you  will  doubtless  look  upon  it  as  a 

great  piece  of  orood  luck  to  have  so  rare  an  oppor- 
2 


18  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

tunity  of  distinguishing  yourself.  Yon  must  know, 
my  good  Perseus,  I  think  of  getting  married  to  the 
beautiful  Princess  Hippodamia,  and  it  is  customary 
on  these  occasions  to  make  the  bride  a  present  of 
some  far-fetched  and  elegant  curiosity.  I  have  been 
a  little  perplexed,  I  must  honestly  confess,  where  to 
obtain  anything  likely  to  please  a  princess  of  her  ex- 
quisite taste.  But  this  morning,  I  flatter  myself,  I 
have  thought  of  precisely  the  article." 

"And  can  I  assist  your  majesty  in  obtaining  it?" 
cried  Perseus,  eagerly. 

"  You  can,  if  you  are  as  brave  a  youth  as  I  believe 
you  to  be,"  replied  King  Polydectes,  with  the  utmost 
graciousness  of  manner.  "The  bridal  gift  which  I 
have  set  my  heart  on  presenting  to  the  beautiful 
Hippodamia  is  the  head  of  the  Gorgon  Medusa  with 
the  snaky  locks,  and  I  depend  on  you,  my  dear  Per- 
seus, to  bring  it  to  me.  So,  as  I  am  anxious  to  settle 
affairs  with  the  princess,  the  sooner  you  go  in  quest 
of  the  Gorgon  the  better  I  shall  be  pleased." 

"I  will  set  out  to-morrow  morning,"  answered 
Perseus. 

"  Pray  do  so,  my  gallant  youth,"  rejoined  the  king. 
"And,  Perseus,  in  cutting  off  the  Gorgon's  head  be 
careful  to  make  a  clean  stroke,  so  as  not  to  injure  its 
appearance.  You  must  bring  it  home  in  the  very 
best  condition  in  order  to  suit  the  exquisite  taste  of 
the  beautiful  Princess  Hippodamia." 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  19 

Perseus  left  the  palace,  but  was  scarcely  out  of  hear- 
ing before  Poljdectes  burst  into  a  laugh,  being  greatly 
amused,  wicked  king  that  he  was,  to  find  how  readily 
the  young  man  fell  into  the  snare.  The  news  quickly 
spread  abroad  that  Perseus  had  undertaken  to  cut  off 
the  head  of  Medusa  with  the  snaky  locks.  Every- 
body was  rejoiced,  for  most  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
island  were  as  wicked  as  the  king  himself,  and  would 
have  liked  nothing  better  than  to  see  some  enormous 
mischief  happen  to  Danae  and  her  son.  The  only 
good  man  in  this  unfortunate  island  of  Seriphus  ap- 
pears to  have  been  the  fisherman.  As  Perseus  walked 
along,  therefore,  the  people  pointed  after  him,  and 
made  mouths,  and  winked  to  one  another,  and  ridi- 
culed him  as  loudly  as  they  dared. 

"Ho,  ho!"  cried  they;  "Medusa's  snakes  will 
sting  him  soundly!" 

Now,  there  were  three  Gorgons  alive  at  that  pe- 
riod, and  they  were  the  most  strange  and  terrible 
monsters  that  had  ever  been  seen  since  the  world  was 
made,  or  that  have  been  seen  in  after  days,  or  that 
are  likely  to  be  seen  in  all  time  to  come.  I  hardly 
know  what  sort  of  creature  or  hobgoblin  to  call  them. 
They  were  three  sisters,  and  seem  to  have  borne  some 
distant  resemblance  to  women,  but  were  really  a  very 
frightful  and  mischievous  species  of  dragon.  It  is 
indeed  difficult  to  imagine  what  hideous  beings  these 
three  sisters  were.     Why,  instead  of  locks  of  hair. 


20  THE  aORGON'S  HEAD. 

if  you  can  "believe  me,  they  had  each  of  them  a  hun- 
dred enormous  snakes  growing  on  their  heads,  all 
alive,  twisting,  wriggling,  curling,  and  thrusting  out 
their  venomous  tongues  with  forked  stings  at  the  end. 
The  teeth  of  the  Gorgons  were  terribly  long  tusks; 
their  hands  were  made  of  brass;  and  their  bodies  were 
all  over  scales,  which,  if  not  iron,  were  something  as 
hard  and  impenetrable.  They  had  wings,  too,  and 
exceedingly  splendid  ones,  I  can  assure  you,  for  every 
feather  in  them  was  pure,  bright,  glittering,  bur- 
nished gold,  and  they  looked  very  dazzling,  no 
doubt,  when  the  Gorgons  were  flying  about  in  the 
sunshine. 

But  when  people  happened  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 
their  glittering  brightness  aloft  in  the  air,  they  seldom 
stopped  to  gaze,  but  ran  and  hid  themselves  as  speed- 
ily as  they  could.  You  will  think,  perhaps,  that 
they  were  afraid  of  being  stung  by  the  serpents  that 
served  the  Gorgons  instead  of  hair,  or  of  having  their 
heads  bitten  off  by  their  ugly  tusks,  or  of  being  torn 
all  to  pieces  by  their  brazen  claws.  Well,  to  be  sure, 
these  were  some  of  the  dangers,  but  by  no  means  the 
greatest  nor  the  most  difficult  to  avoid.  For  the 
worst  thing  about  these  abominable  Gorgons  was  that, 
if  once  a  poor  mortal  fixed  his  eyes  full  upon  one  of 
their  faces,  he  was  certain  that  very  instant  to  be 
changed  from  warm  flesh  and  blood  into  cold  and 
lifeless  stone. 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  31 

Thus,  as  you  ■will  easily  perceive,  it  was  a  very  dan- 
gerous adventure  that  the  wicked  Kiug  Polydectes 
had  contrived  for  this  innocent  young  man.  Perseus 
himself,  when  he  had  thought  over  the  matter,  could 
not  help  seeing  that  he  had  very  little  chance  of  com- 
ing safely  through  it,  and  that  he  was  far  more  likely 
to  become  a  stone  image  than  to  bring  back  the  head 
of  Medusa  with  the  snaky  locks.  For,  not  to  speak 
of  other  difficulties,  there  was  one  which  it  would 
have  puzzled  an  older  man  than  Perseus  to  get  over. 
Not  only  must  he  fight  with  and  slay  this  golden- 
winged,  iron-scaled,  long-tusked,  brazen-clawed, 
snaky-haired  monster,  but  he  must  do  it  with  his 
eyes  shut,  or  at  least  without  so  much  as  a  glance  at 
the  enemy  with  whom  he  was  contending.  Else, 
while  his  arm  was  lifted  to  strike,  he  would  stiffen 
into  stone,  and  stand  with  that  uplifted  arm  for  cen- 
turies, until  time  and  the  wind  and  weather  should 
crumble  him  quite  away.  This  would  be  a  very  sad 
thing  to  befall  a  young  man  who  wanted  to  perform 
a  great  many  brave  deeds  and  to  enjoy  a  great  deal  of 
happiness  in  this  bright  and  beautiful  world. 

So  disconsolate  did  these  thoughts  make  him  that 
Perseus  could  not  bear  to  tell  his  mother  what  he  had 
undertaken  to  do.  He  therefore  took  his  shield, 
girded  on  his  sword,  and  crossed  over  from  the  island 
to  the  mainland,  where  he  sat  down  in  a  solitary 
place  and  hardly  refrained  from  shedding  tears. 


22  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

But  while  he  was  in  this  sorrowful  mood  he  heard 
a  voice  close  behind  him. 

"Perseus,"  said  the  voice,  "why  are  you  sad?" 

He  lifted  his  head  from  his  hands,  in  which  he 
had  hidden  it,  and,  behold!  all  alone  as  Perseus  had 
supposed  himself  to  be,  there  was  a  stranger  in  the 
solitary  place.  It  was  a  brisk,  intelligent,  and  re- 
markably shrewd-looking  young  man,  with  a  cloak 
over  his  shoulders,  an  odd  sort  of  cap  on  his  head,  a 
strangely  twisted  staff  in  his  hand,  and  a  short  and 
very  crooked  sword  hanging  by  his  side.  He  was  ex- 
ceeding light  and  active  in  his  figure,  like  a  person 
much  accustomed  to  gymnastic  exercises  and  well  able 
to  leap  or  run.  Above  all,  the  stranger  had  such  a 
cheerful,  knowing,  and  helpful  aspect  (though  it  was 
certainly  a  little  mischievous  into  the  bargain)  that 
Perseus  could  not  help  feeling  his  spirits  grow  livelier 
as  he  gazed  at  him.  Besides,  being  really  a  coura- 
geous youth,  he  felt  greatly  ashamed  that  anybody 
should  have  found  him  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  like  a 
timid  little  schoolboy,  when,  after  all,  there  might 
be  no  occasion  for  despair.  So  Perseus  wiped  his 
eyes  and  answered  the  stranger  pretty  briskly,  put- 
ting on  as  brave  a  look  as  he  could. 

"  I  am  not  so  very  sad,"  said  he,  *'  only  thoughtful 
about  an  adventure  that  I  have  undertaken." 

"  Oho!"  answered  the  stranger.  "  Well,  tell  me  all 
about  it,  and  possibly  I  may  be  of  service  to  you.     I 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  33 

have  helped  a  good  many  young  men  through  adven- 
tures that  looked  difficult  enough  beforehand.  Per- 
haps you  may  have  heard  of  me.  I  have  more  names 
than  one,  but  the  name  of  Quicksilver  *  suits  me  as 
•well  as  any  other.  Tell  me  what  your  trouble  is,  and 
we  will  talk  the  matter  over  and  see  what  can  be 
done." 

The  stranger's  words  and  manner  put  Perseus  into 
quite  a  different  mood  from  his  former  one.  He 
resolved  to  tell  Quicksilver  all  his  difficulties,  since 
he  could  not  easily  be  worse  off  than  he  already  was, 
and  very  possibly  his  new  friend  might  give  him 
some  advice  that  would  turn  out  well  in  the  end.  So 
he  let  the  stranger  know,  in  few  words,  precisely 
what  the  case  was — how  that  King  Polydectes  wanted 
the  head  of  Medusa  with  the  snaky  locks  as  a  bridal 
gift  for  the  beautiful  Princess  Hippodamia,  and  how 
that  he  had  undertaken  to  get  it  for  him,  but  was 
afraid  of  being  turned  into  stone. 

"  And  that  would  be  a  great  pity,"  said  Quicksilver, 
with  his  mischievous  smile.  "  You  would  make  a 
very  handsome  marble  statue,  it  is  true,  and  it  would 
be  a  considerable  number  of  centuries  before  you 
crumbled  away,  but,  on  the  whole,  one  would  rather 
be  a  young  man  for  a  few  years  than  a  stone  image 
for  a  great  many." 

"Oh,  far   rather!"    exclaimed    Perseus,  with    the 

*Mercury. 


24  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

tears  again  standing  in  his  eyes.  "And,  besides, 
what  would  my  dear  mother  do  if  her  beloved  son 
were  turned  into  a  stone?" 

"Well,  well!  let  us  hope  that  the  affair  will  not 
turn  out  so  very  badly,"  replied  Quicksilver  in  an 
encouraging  tone.  "  I  am  the  very  person  to  help 
you,  if  anybody  can.  My  sister  and  myself  will  do 
our  utmost  to  bring  you  safe  through  the  adventure, 
ugly  as  it  now  looks." 

"Your  sister?"  repeated  Perseus. 

"  Yes,  my  sister,"  said  the  stranger.  "She  is  very 
wise,  I  promise  you ;  and  as  for  myself,  I  generally 
have  all  my  wits  about  me,  such  as  they  are.  If  you 
show  yourself  bold  and  cautious  and  follow  our  ad- 
vice, you  need  not  fear  being  a  stone  image  yet  a 
while.  But,  first  of  all,  you  must  polish  your  shield 
till  you  can  see  your  face,  in  it  as  distinctly  as  in  a 
mirror." 

This  seemed  to  Perseus  rather  an  odd  beginning  of 
the  adventure,  for  he  thought  it  of  far  more  conse- 
j^uence  that  the  shield  should  be  strong  enough  to 
defend  him  from  the  Gorgon's  brazen  claws  than  that 
it  should  be  bright  enough  to  show  him  the  reflection 
of  his  face.  However,  concluding  that  Quicksilver 
knew  better  than  himself,  he  immediately  set  to  work 
and  scrubbed  the  shield  with  so  much  diligence  and 
good-will  that  it  very  quickly  shone  like  the  moon  at 
harvest-time.     Quicksilver  looked  at  it  with  a  smilo 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  25 

and  nodded  his  approbation.  Then,  taking  off  his 
o^'n  short  and  crooked  sword,  he  girded  it  about 
Perseus,  instead  of  the  one  which  he  had  before 
worn. 

"No  sword  but  mine  will  answer  your  j)nrpose," 
observed  he;  "  the  blade  has  a  most  excellent  temper, 
and  will  cut  through  iron  and  brass  as  easily  as 
through  the  slenderest  twig.  And  now  we  will  set 
out.  The  next  thing  is  to  find  the  Three  Gray  Wo- 
men, who  will  tell  us  where  to  find  the  Nymphs." 

"The  Three  Gray  Women!"  cried  Perseus,  to 
whom  this  seemed  only  a  new  difficulty  in  the  path 
of  his  adventure;  "pray,  who  may  the  Three  Gray 
Women  be?     I  never  heard  of  them  before." 

"They  are  three  very  strange  old  ladies,"  said 
Quicksilver,  laughing.  "They  have  but  one  eye 
among  them,  and  only  one  tooth.  Moreover,  you 
must  find  them  out  by  starlight  or  in  the  dusk  of  the 
evening,  for  they  never  show  themselves  by  the  light 
either  of  the  sun  or  moon." 

"  But,"  said  Perseus,  "why  should  I  waste  my  time 
with  these  Three  Gray  Women?  Would  it  not  be 
better  to  set  out  at  once  in  search  of  the  terrible 
Gorgons?" 

"  No,  no,"  answered  his  friend.  "  There  are  other 
things  to  be  done  before  you  can  find  your  way  to  the 
Gorgons.  There  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  hunt  up 
these  old  ladies,  and  when  we  meet  with  them  yori 


26  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

may  be  sare  that  the  Gorgons  are  not  a  great  way  off. 
Come,  let  us  be  stirring." 

Perseus  by  this  time  felt  so  much  confidence  in  his 
companion's  sagacity  that  he  made  no  more  objec- 
tions, and  professed  himself  ready  to  begin  the  ad- 
venture immediately.  They  accordingly  set  out  and 
walked  at  a  pretty  brisk  pace — so  brisk,  indeed,  that 
Perseus  found  it  rather  difficult  to  keep  up  with  his 
nimble  friend  Quicksilver.  To  say  the  truth,  he  had 
a  singular  idea  that  Quicksilver  was  furnished  with  a 
pair  of  winged  shoes,  which  of  course  helped  him 
along  marvellously.  And  then,  too,  when  Perseus 
looked  sideways  at  him  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye, 
he  seemed  to  see  wings  on  the  side  of  his  head, 
although  if  he  turned  a  full  gaze  there  were  no  such 
things  to  be  perceived,  but  only  an  odd  kind  of 
cap.  But,  at  all  events,  the  twisted  staff  was  evi- 
dently a  great  convenience  to  Quicksilver,  and 
enabled  him  to  proceed  so  fast  that  Perseus,  though 
a  remarkably  active  young  man,  began  to  be  out 
of  breath. 

"Here!"  cried  Quicksilver  at  last — for  he  knew 
well  enough,  rogue  that  he  was,  how  hard  Perseus 
found  it  to  keep  pace  with  him — "take  you  the  staff, 
for  you  need  it  a  great  deal  more  than  I.  Are  there 
no  better  walkers  than  yourself  in  the  island  of  Seri- 
phus?" 

"I  could  walk  pretty  well,"  said  Perseus,  glancing 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  27 

slyly  at  his  companion's  feet,  "  if  I  had  only  a  pair  of 
winged  shoes." 

"  We  must  see  about  getting  you  a  pair,"  answered 
Quicksilver. 

But  the  staff  helped  Perseus  along  so  bravely  that 
he  no  longer  felt  the  slightest  weariness.  In  fact, 
the  stick  seemed  to  be  alive  in  his  hand,  and  to  lend 
some  of  its  life  to  Perseus.  He  and  Quicksilver  now 
walked  onward  at  their  ease,  talking  very  sociably 
together,  and  Quicksilver  told  so  many  pleasant  sto- 
ries about  his  former  adventures,  and  how  well  his 
wits  had  served  him  on  various  occasions,  that  Per- 
seus began  to  think  him  a  very  wonderful  person. 
He  evidently  knew  the  world,  and  nobody  is  so 
charming  to  a  young  man  as  a  friend  who  has  that 
kind  of  knowledge.  Perseus  listened  the  more  eagerly 
in  the  hope  of  brightening  his  own  wits  by  what  he 
heard. 

At  last  he  happened  to  recollect  that  Quicksilver 
had  spoken  of  a  sister  who  was  to  lend  her  assistance 
in  the  adventure  which  they  were  now  bound  upon. 

"  Where  is  she?"  he  inquired.  "  Shall  we  not 
meet  her  soon?" 

"All  at  the  proper  time,"  said  his  companion. 
"  But  this  sister  of  mine,  you  must  understand,  is 
quite  a  different  sort  of  character  from  myself.  She 
is  very  grave  and  prudent,  seldom  smiles,  never 
laughs,  and  makes  it  a  rule  not  to  utter  a  word  unless 


28 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 


she  has  something  particularly  profound  to  say. 
Neither  will  she  listen  to  any  but  the  wisest  conver- 
sation." 

"  Dear  me!"  ejaculated  Perseus;  "  I  shall  be  afraid 
to  say  a  syllable." 

"She  is  a  very  accomplished  person,  I  assure  you," 
continued  Quicksilver,  "and  has  all  the  arts  and 
sciences  at  her  fingers'  ends.  In  short,  she  is  so  im- 
moderately wise  that  many  people  call  her  wisdom 
personified.  But,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  she  has 
hardly  vivacity  enough  for  my  taste,  and  I  think  you 
would  scarcely  find  her  so  pleasant  a  travelling  com- 
panion as  myself.  She  has  her  good  points,  never- 
theless, and  you  will  find  the  benefit  of  them  in  your 
encounter  with  the  Gorgons." 

By  this  time  it  had  grown  quite  dusk.  They  were 
now  come  to  a  very  wild  and  desert  place,  overgrown 
with  shaggy  bushes,  and  so  silent  and  solitary  that 
nobody  seemed  ever  to  have  dwelt  or  journeyed  there. 
All  was  waste  and  desolate  in  the  gray  twilight, 
which  grew  every  moment  more  obscure.  Perseus 
looked  about  him  rather  disconsolately,  and  asked 
Quicksilver  whether  they  had  a  great  deal  farther 
to  go. 

"Hist!  hist!"  whispered  his  companion,  "Make 
no  noise.  This  is  just  the  time  and  place  to  meet 
the  Three  Gray  Women.  Be  careful  that  they  do 
not  see  you  before  you  see  them,  for,  though  they 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  29 

have  but  a  single  eye  among  the  three,  it  is  as  sharp- 
sighted  as  half  a  dozen  common  eyes." 

"But  what  must  I  do,"  asked  Perseus,  "when  we 
meet  them?" 

Quicksilver  explained  to  Perseus  how  the  Three 
Gray  Women  managed  with  their  one  eye.  They 
were  in  the  habit,  it  seems,  of  changing  it  from  one 
to  another,  as  if  it  had  been  a  pair  of  spectacles  or — 
which  would  have  suited  them  better — a  quizzing 
glass.  When  one  of  the  three  had  kept  the  eye  a 
certain  time,  she  took  it  out  of  the  socket  and  passed 
it  to  one  of  her  sisters  whose  turn  it  might  happen  to 
be,  and  who  immediately  clapped  it  into  her  own 
head  and  enjoyed  a  peep  at  the  visible  world.  Thus 
it  will  easily  be  understood  that  only  one  of  the  Three 
Gray  Women  could  see,  while  the  other  two  were  in 
utter  darkness;  and,  moreover,  at  the  instant  when 
the  eye  was  passing  from  hand  to  hand  neither  of  the 
poor  old  ladies  was  able  to  see  a  wink.  I  have  heard 
of  a  great  many  strange  things  in  my  day,  and  have 
witnessed  not  a  few,  but  none,  it  seems  to  me,  that 
can  compare  with  the  oddity  of  these  Three  Gray 
Women  all  peeping  through  a  single  eye. 

So  thought  Perseus  likewise,  and  was  so  astonished 
that  he  almost  fancied  his  companion  was  joking  with 
him,  and  that  there  were  no  such  old  women  in  the 
world. 

"  You  will  soon  find  whether  I  tell  the  truth  or 


30  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

no,"  observed  Quicksilver.  "Hark!  hnsli!  hist! 
hist!     There  thev  come,  now." 

Perseus  looked  earnestly  through  the  dusk  of  the 
evening,  and  there,  sure  enough,  at  no  great  dis- 
tance oil,  he  descried  the  Three  Graj'  Women.  The 
light  being  so  faint,  he  could  not  well  make  out  what 
sort  of  figures  they  were,  only  he  discovered  that  they 
had  long  gray  hair,  and  as  they  came  nearer  he  saw  that 
two  of  them  had  but  the  empty  socket  of  an  eye  in 
the  middle  of  their  foreheads.  But  in  the  middle  of 
the  third  sister's  forehead  there  was  a  very  large, 
bright,  and  piercing  eye,  which  sparkled  like  a  great 
diamond  in  a  ring;  and  so  penetrating  did  it  seem  to 
be  that  Perseus  could  not  help  thinking  it  must  possess 
the  gift  of  seeing  in  the  darkest  midnight  just  as 
perfectly  as  at  noonday.  The  sight  of  three  persons' 
eyes  was  melted  and  collected  into  that  single  one. 

Thus  the  three  old  dames  got  along  about  as  com- 
fortably, upon  the  whole,  as  if  they  could  all  see  at 
once.  She  who  chanced  to  have  the  eye  in  her  fore- 
head led  the  other  two  by  the  hands,  peeping  sharply 
about  her  all  the  while,  insomuch  that  Perseus  dreaded 
lest  she  should  see  right  through  the  thick  clump  of 
bushes  behind  which  he  and  Quicksilver  had  hidden 
themselves.  My  stars!  it  was  positively  terrible  to 
be  within  reach  of  so  very  sharp  an  eye. 

But  before  they  reached  the  clump  of  bushes  one 
©f  the  Three  Gray  Women  spoke. 


THE  GORGON"  S  HEAD.  31 

*' Sister!  Sister  Scarecrow!"  cried  she,  "yon  have 
had  the  eye  long  enough.     It  is  my  turn  now!" 

"  Let  me  keep  it  a  moment  longer,  Sister  Night- 
mare," answered  Scarecrow.  "I  thought  I  had  a 
glimpse  of  something  behind  that  thick  bush." 

"Well,  and  what  of  that?"  retorted  Nightmare, 
peevishly.  "Can't  I  see  into  a  thick  bush  as  easily 
as  yourself?  The  eye  is  mine  as  well  as  yours,  and  I 
know  the  use  of  it  as  well  as  you,  or  maybe  a  little 
better.     I  insist  upon  taking  a  peep  immediately." 

But  here  the  third  sister,  whose  name  was  Shake- 
joint,  began  to  complain,  and  said  that  it  was  her 
turn  to  have  the  eye,  and  that  Scarecrow  and  Night- 
mare wanted  to  keep  it  all  to  themselves.  To  end 
the  dispute,  old  Dame  Scarecrow  took  the  eye  out  of 
her  forehead  and  held  it  forth  in  her  hand. 

"Take  it,  one  of  you,"  cried  she,  "and  quit  this 
foolish  quarrelling.  For  my  part,  I  shall  be  glad  of 
a  little  thick  darkness.  Take  it  quickly,  however,  or 
I  must  clap  it  into  my  own  head  again." 

Accordingly,  both  Nightmare  and  Shakejoint 
stretched  out  their  hands,  groping  eagerly  to  snatch 
the  eye  out  of  the  hand  of  Scarecrow.  But,  being 
both  alike  blind,  they  could  not  easily  find  where 
Scarecrow's  hand  was;  and  Scarecrow,  being  now 
just  as  much  in  the  dark  as  Shakejoint  and  Night- 
mare, could  not  at  once  meet  either  of  their  hands  in 
order  to  put  the  eye  into  it.     Thus  (as  you  will  sea 


32  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

with  half  an  eye,  my  wise  little  auditors)  these  good 
old  dames  had  fallen  into  a  strange  perplexity.  For, 
though  the  eye  shone  and  glistened  like  a  star  as 
Scarecrow  held  it  out,  yet  the  Gray  Women  caught 
not  the  least  glimpse  of  its  light,  and  were  all  three 
in  utter  darkness  from  too  impatient  a  desire  to  see. 

Quicksilver  was  so  much  tickled  at  beholding 
Shakejoint  and  Nightmare  both  groping  for  the  eye, 
and  each  finding  fault  with  Scarecrow  and  with  one 
another,  that  he  could  scarcely  help  laughing  aloud. 

"Now  is  your  time!"  he  whispered  to  Perseus. 
"Quick,  quick!  before  they  can  clap  the  eye  into 
either  of  their  heads.  Eush  out  upon  the  old  ladies 
and  snatch  it  from  Scarecrow's  hand." 

In  an  instant,  while  the  Three  Gray  Women  were 
still  scolding  each  other,  Perseus  leaped  from  behind 
the  clump  of  bushes  and  made  himself  master  of  the 
prize.  The  marvellous  eye,  as  he  held  it  in  his  hand, 
shone  very  brightly,  and  seemed  to  look  up  into  his 
face  with  a  knowing  air,  and  an  expression  as  if  it 
would  have  winked  had  it  been  provided  with  a  pair 
of  eyelids  for  that  purpose.  But  the  Gray  Women 
knew  nothing  of  what  had  happened,  and,  each  sup- 
posing that  one  of  her  sisters  was  in  possession  of  the 
eye,  they  began  their  quarrel  anew.  At  last,  as  Per- 
seus did  not  wish  to  put  these  respectable  dames  to 
greater  inconvenience  than  was  really  necessary,  he 
thought  it  right  to  explain  the  matter. 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  33 

^My  good  ladies,"  said  he,  "  pray  do  not  be  angry 
with  one  another.  If  anybody  is  in  fault,  it  is  my- 
self, for  I  have  the  honor  to  hold  your  very  brilliant 
and  excellent  eye  in  my  own  hand." 

"You!  you  have  our  eye?  And  who  are  you?" 
screamed  the  Three  Gray  Women  all  in  a  breath,  for 
they  were  terribly  frightened,  of  course,  at  hearing  a 
strange  voice  and  discovering  that  their  eyesight  had 
got  into  the  hands  of  they  could  not  guess  whom. 

"Oh,  what  shall  we  do,  sisters?  what  shall  we  do? 
We  are  all  in  the  dark!  Give  us  our  eye!  Give  us 
our  one  precious,  solitary  eye !  You  have  two  of  your 
own!     Give  us  our  eye!" 

"Tell  them,"  whispered  Quicksilver  to  Perseus, 
"  that  they  shall  have  back  the  eye  as  soon  as  they 
direct  you  where  to  find  the  Nymphs  who  have  the 
flying  slippers,  the  magic  wallet,  and  the  helmet  of 
darkness." 

"My  dear,  good,  admirable  old  ladies,"  said  Per- 
seus, addressing  the  Gray  Women,  "  there  is  no  oc- 
casion for  putting  yourselves  into  such  a  fright.  I 
am  by  no  means  a  bad  young  man.  You  shall  have 
back  your  eye,  safe  and  sound  and  as  bright  as  ever, 
the  moment  you  tell  me  where  to  find  the  Nymphs." 

"  The    Nymphs !       Goodness    me !     sisters,     what 

Nymphs     does     he     mean?"     screamed    Scarecrow. 

"  There  are  a  great  many  Nymphs,  people  say — some 

that  go  a-hunting  in  the  woods,  and  some  that  live 
3 


ij4  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

inside  of  trees,  and  some  that  have  a  comfortable 
home  in  fountains  of  water.  We  know  nothing  at 
all  about  them.  We  are  three  unfortunate  old  souls 
that  go  wandering  about  in  the  dusk,  and  never  had 
but  one  eye  among  us,  and  that  one  you  have  stolen 
away.  Oh,  give  it  back,  good  stranger!  whoever  you 
are,  give  it  back!" 

All  this  while  the  Three  Gray  Women  were  gro}>- 
ing  with  their  outstretched  hands  and  trying  their 
utmost  to  get  hold  of  Perseus,  but  he  took  good  ca,e 
to  keep  out  of  their  reach. 

"My  respectable  dames,"  said  he — for  his  moth^i 
had  taught  him  always  to  use  the  greatest  civility — 
*'I  hold  your  eye  fast  in  m.y  hand,  and  shall  keep  it 
safely  for  you  until  you  please  to  tell  me  where  to  £rnd 
these  Nymphs — the  Nym.phs,  I  mean,  who  keep  the 
enchanted  wallet,  the  flying  slippers,  and  the — what 
is  it? — the  helmet  of  invisibility." 

"Mercy  on  us,  sisters!  what  is  the  younc^  man 
talking  about?"  exclaimed  Scarecrow,  Nightmare, 
and  Sliakejoint  one  to  another,  with  great  appearance 
of  astonishment.  "  A  pair  of  ^ymg  slippers,  quoth  he  J 
His  heels  would  quickly  fly  higher  than  his  head  if 
he  were  silly  enough  to  put  them  on.  And  a 
helmet  of  invisibility!  How  could  a  helmet  make 
him  invisible  unless  it  were  big  enough  for  him  to 
hide  under  it?  And  an  enchanted  wallet!  What 
•ort  of  a  contrivance  may  that  be,  I  wonder?     No, 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  36 

no,  good  stranger,  we  can  tell  you  nothing  of  these 
marvellous  things.  You  have  two  eyes  of  your  own, 
and  we  but  a  single  one  among  us  three.  You  can 
find  out  such  wonders  better  than  three  blind  old 
creatures  like  us." 

Perseus,  hearing  them  talk  this  way,  began  really 
to  think  that  the  Gray  Women  knew  nothing  of  the 
matter,  and,  as  it  grieved  him  to  have  put  them  to 
so  much  trouble,  he  was  just  on  the  point  of  restoring 
their  eye  and  asking  pardon  for  his  rudeness  in 
snatching  it  away,  but  Quicksilver  caught  his  hand. 

"Don't  let  them  make  a  fool  of  you,"  said  he. 
"  These  Three  Gray  Women  are  the  only  j^ersons  in 
the  world  that  can  tell  you  where  to  find  the  Nymphs, 
and  unless  you  get  that  information  you  will  never 
succeed  in  cutting  off  the  head  of  Medusa  with  the 
snaky  locks.  Keep  fast  hold  of  the  eye  and  all  will 
go  well." 

As  it  turned  out.  Quicksilver  was  in  the  right. 
There  are  but  few  things  that  people  prize  so  much 
as  they  do  their  eyesight,  and  the  Gray  Women  valued 
their  single  eye  as  highly  as  if  it  had  been  half  a 
dozen,  which  was  the  number  they  ought  to  have 
had.  Finding  that  there  was  no  other  way  of  re- 
covering it,  they  at  last  told  Perseus  what  he  wanted 
to  know.  No  sooner,  had  they  done  so  than  he  im- 
mediately and  with  the  utmost  respect  clapped  the 
eye  into  the  vacant  socket  in  one  of  their  foreheads. 


36  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

thanked  them  for  their  kindness,  and  bade  them  fare 
well.  Before  the  young  man  was  out  of  hearing, 
however,  they  had  got  into  a  new  dispute  because  he 
happened  to  have  given  the  eye  to  Scarecrow,  who 
had  already  taken  her  turn  of  it  when  their  trouble 
with  Perseus  commenced. 

It  is  greatly  to  be  feared  that  the  Three  Gray 
Women  were  very  much  in  the  habit  of  disturbing 
their  mutual  harmony  by  bickerings  of  this  sort, 
which  was  the  more  pity  as  they  could  not  conven- 
iently do  without  one  another,  and  were  evidently  in- 
tended to  be  inseparable  companions.  As  a  general 
rule,  I  would  advise  all  people,  whether  sisters  or 
brothers,  old  or  young,  who  chance  to  have  but  one 
eye  among  them,  to  cultivate  forbearance,  and  not  all 
insist  upon  peeping  through  it  at  once. 

Quicksilver  and  Perseus  in  the  mean  time  were 
making  the  best  of  their  way  in  quest  of  the  Nymphs. 
The  old  dames  had  given  them  such  particular  direc- 
tions that  they  were  not  long  in  finding  them  out. 
They  proved  to  be  very  different  persons  from  Night- 
mare, Shakejoint,  and  Scarecrow,  for  instead  of  being 
old  they  were  young  and  beautiful,  and  instead  of 
one  eye  among  the  sisterhood  each  Nymph  had  two 
exceedingly  bright  eyes  of  her  own,  with  which  she 
looked  very  kindly  at  Perseus.  They  seemed  to  be 
acquainted  with  Quicksilver,  and  when  he  told  them 
the  adventure  which  Perseus  had  undertaken  they 


THE  GORGON'S  HE  An.  37 

made  no  difficulty  about  giving  him  the  valuable  arti- 
cles that  were  in  their  custody.  In  the  first  place, 
they  brought  out  what  appeared  to  be  a  small  purse 
made  of  deerskin  and  curiously  embroidered,  and 
bade  him  be  sure  and  keep  it  safe.  This  was  the 
magic  wallet.  The  Nymphs  next  produced  a  pair  of 
shoes  or  slippers  or  sandals  with  a  nice  little  pair  of 
wings  at  the  heel  of  each. 

"Put  them  on,  Perseus,"  said  Quicksilver.  "You 
will  find  yourself  as  light-heeled  as  you  can  desire  for 
the  remainder  of  our  journey." 

So  Perseus  proceeded  to  put  one  of  the  slippers  on, 
while  he  laid  the  other  on  the  ground  by  his  side. 
Unexpectedly,  however,  this  other  slipper  spread  its 
wings,  fluttered  up  off  the  ground,  and  would  prob- 
ably have  flown  away  if  Quicksilver  had  not  made  a 
leap  and  luckily  caught  it  in  the  air.  < 

"Be  more  careful,"  said  he  as  he  gave  it  back  to 
Perseus.  "  It  would  frighten  the  birds  up  aloft  if 
they  should  see  a  flying  slipper  among  them." 

When  Perseus  had  got  on  both  of  these  wonderful 
slippers  he  was  altogether  too  buoyant  to  tread  on 
earth.  Making  a  step  or  two,  lo  and  behold !  upward 
he  popped  into  the  air,  high  above  the  heads  of 
Quicksilver  and  the  Nymphs,  and  found  it  very 
difficult  to  clamber  down  again.  Winged  slippers 
wid  allsnch  high-flying  contrivances  are  seldom  quite 
>isy  to  manage  until  one  grows  a  little  accustomed  to 


58  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

them.  Quicksilver  laughed  at  his  companion's  in- 
voluntary activity,  and  told  him  that  he  must  not  be 
in  so  desperate  a  hurry,  but  must  wait  for  the  invisi- 
ble helmet. 

The  good-natured  Nymphs  had  the  helmet  with 
its  dark  tuft  of  w'aving  plumes  all  in  readiness  to  put 
upon  his  head.  And  now  there  happened  about  as 
wonderful  an  incident  as  anything  that  I  have  yet 
told  you.  The  instant  before  the  helmet  was  put  on 
^here  stood  Perseus,  a  beautiful  young  man  with 
golden  ringlet  and  rosy  cheeks,  the  crooked  sword  by 
his  side,  and  the  brightly  polished  shield  upon  his 
arm — a  figure  that  seemed  all  made  up  of  courage, 
sprightliness,  and  glorious  light.  But  when  the  hel- 
met had  descended  over  his  white  brow  there  was  no 
longer  any  Perseus  to  be  seen !  Nothing  but  empty 
air!  Even  the  helmet  that  covered  him  with  its  in- 
visibility had  vanished! 

"  Where    are   you,   Perseus?"    asked    Quicksilver. 

"Why,  here,  to  be  sure!"  answered  Perseus  very 
•quietly,  although  his  voice  seemed  to  come  out  of  the 
transparent  atmosphere.  "Just  where  I  was  a  mo- 
ment ago.     Don't  you  see  me? 

"No,  indeed!"  answered  his  friend.  "You  are 
hidden  under  the  helmet.  But  if  I  cannot  see  you, 
neither  can  the  Gorgons.  Follow  me,  therefore,  and 
we  will  try  your  dexterity  in  using  the  winged  slip- 
pers " 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  39 

With  these  words  Qnicksilver's  cap  spread  its 
wings,  as  if  his  head  were  about  to  iiy  away  from  his 
shoulders;  but  his  whole  figure  rose  lightly  into  the 
air,  and  Perseus  followed.  By  the  time  they  had  as- 
cended a  few  hundred  feet  the  young  man  began  to 
feel  what  a  delightful  thing  it  was  to  leave  the  dull 
earth  so  far  beneath  him  and  to  be  able  to  flit  about 
like  a  bird. 

It  was  now  deep  night.  Perseus  looked  upward 
and  saw  the  round,  bright,  silvery  moon,  and  thought 
that  he  should  desire  nothing  better  than  to  soar  up 
thither  and  spend  his  life  ihere.  Then  he  looked 
downward  again  and  saw  the  earth,  with  its  sea  and 
lakes,  and  the  silver  courses  of  its  rivers,  and  its  snowy 
mountain-peaks,  and  the  breadth  of  its  fields,  and 
the  dark  cluster  of  its  woods,  and  its  cities  of  white 
marble;  and,  with  the  moonshine  sleeping  over  the 
whole  scene,  it  was  as  beautiful  as  the  moon  or  any 
star  could  be.  And,  among  other  objects,  he  saw  the 
island  of  Seriphus,  where  his  dear  mother  was. 
Sometimes  he  and  Quicksilver  approached  a  cloud 
that  at  a  distance  looked  as  if  it  were  made  of  fleecy 
silver,  although  when  they  plunged  into  it  they  found 
themselves  chilled  and  moistened  with  gray  mist.  Sg 
swift  was  their  flight,  however,  that  in  an  instant 
they  emerged  from  the  cloud  into  the  moonlight 
again.  Once  a  high-soaring  eagle  flew  right  against 
the  invisible  Perseus.     The  bravest  sights  were  the 


40  TEE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

meteors  that  gleamed  suddenl}^  ont  as  if  a  bonfire  had 
been  kindled  in  the  skv,  and  made  the  moonshine 
pale  for  as  much  as  a  hundred  miles  around  them. 

As  the  two  companions  flew  onward  Perseus  fancied 
that  he  could  hear  the  rustle  of  a  garment  close  by 
his  side;  and  it  was  on  the  side  opposite  to  the  one 
where  he  beheld  Quicksilver,  yet  only  Quicksilver  was 
visible. 

"Whose  garment  is  this,"  inquired  Perseus,  "that 
keeps  rustling  close  beside  me  in  the  breeze?" 

"Oh,  it  is  my  sister's,"  answered  Quicksilver. 
*'  She  is  coming  along  with  us,  as  I  told  you  she 
would.  We  could  do  nothing  without  the  help  of  my 
sister.  You  have  no  idea  how  wise  she  is.  She  has 
such  eyes,  too !  Why,  she  can  see  you  at  this  moment 
just  as  distinctly  as  if  you  were  not  invisible,  and  I'll 
venture  to  say  she  will  be  the  first  to  discover  the 
Gorgons." 

By  this  time,  in  their  swift  voyage  through  the  air, 
they  had  come  within  sight  of  the  great  ocean,  and 
were  soon  flying  over  it.  Far  beneath  them  the 
waves  tossed  themselves  tumultuously  in  mid-sea,  or 
rolled  a  white  surf-line  upon  the  long  beaches,  or 
foamed  against  the  rocky  cliffs  with  a  roar  that  was 
thunderous  in  the  lower  world,  although  it  became  a 
gentle  murmur,  like  the  voice  of  a  baby  half  asleep, 
before  it  reached  the  ears  of  Perseus.  Just  then  a 
voice  spoke  in  the  air  close  by  him.     It  seemed  to  be 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  41 

a  woman's  voice,  and  was  melodions,  though  not 
exactly  what  might  be  called  sweet,  but  grave  and 
mild. 

"  Perseus,"  said  the  voice,  "there  are  the  Gorgons." 

*'  Where ?"  exclaimed  Perseus.   "  I  cannot  see  them. " 

"On  the  shore  of  that  island  beneath  you,"  replied 

the  voice.     "  A  pebble  dropped  from  your  hand  would 

strike  in  the  midst  of  them." 

"  I  told  you  she  would  be  tlie  first  to  discover  them," 
said  Quicksilver  to  Perseus.  "And  there  they  are!" 
Straight  downward,  two  or  three  thousand  feet 
below  him,  Perseus  perceived  a  small  island  with  the 
sea  breaking  into  white  foam  all  around  its  rocky 
shore  except  on  one  side,  where  there  was  a  beach  of 
snowy  sand.  He  descended  toward  it,  and,  looking 
earnestly  at  a  cluster  or  heap  of  brightness  at  the  foot 
of  a  precipice  of  black  rocks,  behold,  there  were  the 
terrible  Gorgons!  They  lay  fast  asleep,  soothed  by 
the  thunder  of  the  sea,  for  it  required  a  tumult  that 
would  have  deafened  everybody  else  to  lull  such  fierce 
creatures  into  slumber.  The  moonlight  glistened  on 
their  steely  scales  and  on  their  golden  wings,  which 
drooped  idly  over  the  sand.  Their  brazen  claws, 
horrible  to  look  at,  were  thrust  out  and  clutched  the 
wave-beaten  fragments  of  rock,  while  the  sleeping 
Gorgons  dreamed  of  tearing  some  poor  mortal  all  to 
pieces.  The  snakes  that  served  them  instead  of  hair 
seemed  likewise  to  be  asleep,  although  now  and  then 


42  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

one  would  writhe  and  lift  its  head  and  thrust  out  its 
forked  tongue,  emitting  a  drowsy  hiss,  and  then  let 
itself  subside  among  its  sister  snakes. 

The  Gorgons  were  more  like  an  awful,  gigantic 
kind  of  insect — immense  golden-winged  beetles  or 
dragon-flies  or  things  of  that  sort,  at  once  ugly  and 
beautiful — than  like  anything  else,  only  that  they 
were  a  thousand  and  a  million  times  as  big.  And, 
with  all  this,  there  was  something  partly  human 
aboui  them  too.  Luckily  for  Perseus,  their  faces 
were  completely  hidden  from  him  by  the  posture  in 
wblch  they  lay,  for  had  he  but  looked  one  instant  at 
them  he  would  have  fallen  heavily  out  of  the  air,  an 
image  of  senseless  stone. 

*'Now,"  whispered  Quicksilver  as  he  hovered  by 
the  side  of  Perseus,  "now  is  your  time  to  do  the 
deed  I  Be  quick,  for  if  one  of  the  Gorgons  should 
awake,  you  are  too  late." 

"Which  shall  I  strike  at?"  asked  Perseus,  drawing 
his  sword  and  descending  a  little  lower.  "  They  all 
three  look  alike.  All  three  have  snaky  locks.  Which 
of  the  three  is  Medusa?" 

It  must  be  understood  that  Medusa  was  the  only 
one  of  these  dragon -monsters  whose  head  Perseus 
could  possibly  cut  off.  As  for  the  other  two,  let  him 
have  the  sharpest  sword  that  ever  was  forged,  aud  he 
might  have  hacked  away  by  the  hour  together  with- 
out doing  them  the  least  harm. 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  43 

"Be  cautious,"  said  the  calm  voice  which  had  be- 
fore spoken  to  him.  "  One  of  the  Gorgons  is  stirring 
in  her  sleep,  and  is  just  about  to  turn  over.  That  is 
Medusa.  Do  not  look  at  her.  The  sight  would 
turn  you  to  stone.  Look  at  the  reflection  of  her  face 
and  figure  in  the  bright  mirror  of  your  shield." 

Perseus  now  understood  Quicksilver's  motive  for 
so  earnestly  exhorting  him  to  polish  his  shield.  In 
its  surface  he  could  safely  look  at  the  reflection  of 
the  Gorgon's  face.  And  there  it  was,  that  terrible 
countenance,  mirrored  in  the  brightness  of  the  shield, 
with  the  moonlight  falling  over  it  and  displaying  all 
its  horror.  The  snakes,  whose  venomous  natures 
could  not  altogether  sleep,  kept  twisting  themselves 
over  the  forehead.  It  was  the  fiercest  and  most  hor- 
rible face  that  ever  was  seen  or  imagined,  and  yet 
with  a  strange,  fearful,  and  savage  kind  of  beauty  in 
it.  The  eyes  were  closed  and  the  Gorgon  was  still 
in  a  deep  slumber,  but  there  was  an  unquiet  expres- 
sion disturbing  her  features,  as  if  the  monster  was 
troubled  with  an  ugly  dream.  She  gnashed  her 
white  tusks  and  dug  into  the  sand  with  brazen 
claws. 

The  snakes,  too,  seemed  to  feel  Medusa's  dream 
and  to  be  made  more  restless  by  it.  They  twined 
themselves  into  tumultuous  knots,  writhed  fiercely, 
and  uplifted  a  hundred  hissing  heads  without  opening 
their  eyes. 


44  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

*^Now,  now!"  whispered  Quicksilver,  who  was 
growing  impatient.     " Make  a  dash  at  the  monster!" 

"But  be  cahn,"  said  the  grave,  melodious  voice  at 
the  young  man's  side.  "  Look  in  your  shield  as  you 
fly  downward,  and  take  care  that  you  do  not  miss 
your  first  stroke." 

Perseus  flew  cautiously  downward,  still  keeping  his 
eyes  on  Medusa's  face,  as  reflected  in  his  shield.  The 
nearer  he  came  the  more  terrible  did  the  snaky  visage 
and  metallic  body  of  the  monster  grow.  At  last,  when 
he  found  himself  hovering  over  her  within  arm's 
length,  Perseus  uplifted  his  sword,  while  at  the  same 
instant  each  separate  snake  upon  the  Gorgon's  head 
stretched  threateningly  upward  and  Medusa  unclosed 
her  eyes.  But  she  awoke  too  late.  The  sword  was 
sharp,  the  stroke  fell  like  a  lightning  flash,  and  the 
head  of  the  wicked  Medusa  tumbled  from  her  body ! 

"Admirably  done!"  cried  Quicksilver.  "Make 
haste  and  clap  the  head  into  your  magic  wallet." 

To  the  astonishment  of  Perseus,  the  small  embroid- 
ered wallet  which  he  had  hung  about  his  neck,  and 
which  had  hitherto  been  no  bigger  than  a  purse,  grew 
all  at  once  large  enough  to  contain  Medusa's  head. 
As  quick  as  thought  he  snatched  it  up,  with  the 
snakes  still  writhing  upon  it,  and  thrust  it  in. 

"Your  task  is  done,"  said  the  calm  voice.  "Now 
fly,  for  the  other  Gorgons  will  do  their  utmost  to  take 
vengeance  for  Medusa's  death." 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  45 

It  was  indeed  necessary  to  take  flight,  for  Persen3 
had  not  done  the  deed  so  quietly  but  that  the  clash 
of  his  sword  and  the  hissing  of  the  snakes  and  the 
thump  of  Medusa's  head  as  it  tumbled  upon  the  sea- 
beaten  sand  awoke  the  other  two  monsters.  There 
they  sat  for  an  instant,  sleepily  rubbing  their  eyes 
with  their  brazen  fingers,  while  all  the  snakes  on 
their  heads  reared  themselves  on  end  with  surprise 
and  with  venomous  malice  against  they  knew  not 
■what.  But  when  the  Gorgons  saw  the  scaly  car- 
cass of  Medusa  headless,  and  her  golden  wings  all 
ruffled  and  half-spread  out  on  the  sand,  it  was  really 
awful  to  hear  what  yells  and  screeches  they  set  up. 
And  then  the  snakes!  They  sent  forth  a  hundred- 
fold hiss  with  one  consent,  and  Medusa's  snakes  an- 
swered them  out  of  the  magic  wallet. 

No  sooner  were  the  Gorgons  broad  awake  than  they 
hurtled  upward  into  the  air,  brandishing  their  brass 
talons,  gnashing  their  horrible  tusks,  and  flapping 
their  huge  wings  so  wildly  that  some  of  the  golden 
feathers  were  shaken  out  and  floated  down  upon  the 
shore.  And  there,  perhaps,  those  very  feathers  lie 
scattered  till  this  day.  Up  rose  the  Gorgons,  as  I 
tell  you,  staring  horribly  about  in  hopes  of  turning 
somebody  to  stone.  Had  Perseus  looked  them  in  the 
face,  or  had  he  fallen  into  their  clutches,  his  poor 
mother  would  never  have  kissed  her  boy  again.  But 
he  took  good  care  to  turn  his  eyes  another  way,  and  aa 


46  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

he  wore  the  helmet  of  invisibility,  the  Gorgons  knew 
not  in  what  direction  to  follow  him;  nor  did  he  fail 
to  make  the  best  nse  of  the  winged  slippers  by  soaring 
upward  a  perpendicular  mile  or  so.  At  that  height, 
when  the  screams  of  those  abominable  creatures 
sounded  faintly  beneath  him,  he  made  a  straight 
course  for  the  island  of  Seriphus,  in  order  to  carry 
Medusa's  head  to  King  Polydectes. 

I  hafe  no  time  to  tell  you  of  several  marvellous 
things  that  befell  Perseus  on  his  way  homeward,  such 
as  his  killing  a  hideous  sea-monster  just  as  it  was  on 
the  point  of  devouring  a  beautiful  maiden,  nor  how 
he  changed  an  enormous  giant  into  a  mountain  of  stone 
merely  by  showing  him  the  head  of  the  Gorgon.  If 
you  doubt  this  latter  story,  you  may  make  a  voyage  to 
Africa  some  day  or  other  and  see  the  very  mountain, 
which  is  still  known  by  the  ancient  giant's  name. 

Finally,  our  brave  Perseus  arrived  at  the  island, 
where  he  expected  to  see  his  dear  mother.  But  dur- 
ing his  absence  the  wicked  king  had  treated  Danae  so 
very  ill  that  she  was  compelled  to  make  her  escape, 
and  had  taken  refuge  in  a  temple,  where  some^good 
old  priests  ^vere  extremely  kind  to  her.  These 
praiseworthy  priests,  and  the  kind-hearted  fisherman 
who  had  first  shown  hospitality  to  Danae  and  little 
Perseus  when  he  found  them  afloat  in  the  chest,  seemed 
to  have  been  the  only  persons  on  the  island  who  cared 
about  doing  right.     All  the  rest  of  the  people,  as  well 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  47 

as  /S^ing  Polydectes  himself,  were  remarkably  ill- 
befiaved,  and  deserved  no  better  destiny  than  that 
which  was  now  to  happen.  Not  finding  his  mother 
at  home,  Perseus  went  straight  to  the  palace,  and  was 
immediately  ushered  into  the  presence  of  the  king. 
Polydectes  was  by  no  means  rejoiced  to  see  him,  for 
he  had  felt  almost  certain  in  his  own  evil  mind  that 
the  Gorgons  would  have  torn  the  poor  young  man  to 
pieces  and  have  eaten  him  up  out  of  the  way.  How- 
ever, seeing  him  safely  returned,  ho  put  the  best  face 
he  could  upon  the  matter  and  asked  Perseus  how  he 
had  succeeded. 

"  Have  you  performed  your  promise?"  inquired  he. 
*'  Have  you  brought  me  the  head  of  Medusa  with  the 
snaky  locks?  If  not,  young  man,  it  will  cost  you 
dear,  for  I  must  have  a  bridal  present  for  the  beauti- 
ful Princess  Hippodamia,  and  there  is  nothing  else 
that  she  would  admire  so  much." 

.  "Yes,  please  your  majesty,"  answered  Perseus  in 
a  quiet  way,  as  if  it  were  no  very  wonderful  deed  for 
such  a  young  man  as  he  to  perform.  "  I  have  brought 
you  the  Gorgon's  head,  snaky  locks,  and  all." 

"Indeed!  Pray  let  me  see  it,"  quoth  King  Poly- 
dectes. "  It  must  be  a  very  curious  spectacle,  if  all 
that  travellers  tell  about  it  be  true." 

"Your  majesty  is  in  the  right,"  replied  Perseus. 
"  It  is  really  an  object  that  will  be  pretty  certain  to 
fiz  the  regards  of  all  who  look  at  it.     And,  if  your 


48  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

majesty  think  fit,  I  would  suggest  that  a  holiday  be 
proclaimed,  and  that  all  your  majesty's  subjects  be 
summoned  to  behold  this  wonderful  curiosity.  Few 
of  them,  I  imagine,  have  seen  a  Gorgon's  head  be- 
fore, and  perhaps  never  may  again." 

The  king  well  knew  that  his  subjects  were  an  idle 
set  of  reprobates,  and  very  fond  of  sightseeing,  as 
idle  persons  usually  are.  So  he  took  the  young  man's 
advice,  and  sent  out  heralds  and  messengers  in  all 
directions  to  blow  the  trumpet  at  the  street-corners 
and  in  the  market-places  and  wherever  two  roads  met, 
and  summon  everybody  to  court.  Thither,  accord- 
ingly, came  a  great  multitude  of  good-for-nothing 
vagabonds,  all  of  whom,  out  of  pure  love  of  mischief, 
would  have  been  glad  if  Perseus  had  met  with  some 
ill-hap  in  his  encounter  with  the  Gorgons.  If  there 
were  any  better  people  in  the  island  (as  I  really  hope 
there  may  have  been,  although  the  story  tells  nothing 
about  any  such),  they  stayed  quietly  at  home,  mind- 
ing their  own  business  and  taking  care  of  their  little 
children.  Most  of  the  inhabitants,  at  all  events,  ran 
as  fast  as  they  could  to  the  palace,  and  shoved  and 
pushed  and  elbowed  one  another  in  their  eagerness  to 
get  near  a  balcony  on  which  Perseus  showed  himself, 
holding  the  embroidered  wallet  in  his  hand. 

On  a  platform  within  full  view  of  the  balcony  sat 
the  mighty  King  Polydectes,  amid  his  evil  counsel- 
lors and  with  his  flattering  courtiers  in  a  semicircle 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD.  4» 

round  about  him.  Monarch,  connsellors,  courtiers, 
and  subjects  all  gazed  eagerly  toward  Perseus. 

"Show  us  the  head!  Show  us  the  head!"  shouted 
the  people ;  and  there  was  a  fierceness  in  their  cry,  as 
if  they  would  tear  Perseus  to  pieces  unless  he  should 
satisfy  them  with  what  he  had  to  show.  "  Show  us 
the  head  of  Medusa  with  the  snaky  locks!" 

A  feeling  of  sorrow  and  pity  came  over  the  youth- 
ful Perseus. 

"0  King  Polydectes,"  cried  he,  "and  ye  many 
people,  I  am  very  loth  to  show  you  the  Gorgon's 
head." 

"Ah,  the  villain  and  coward!"  yelled  the  people, 
more  fiercely  than  before.  "  He  is  making  game  of 
tis!  He  has  no  Gorgon's  head !  Show  us  the  head  if 
you  have  it,  or  we  will  take  your  own  head  for  a 
foatball!" 

The  evil  counsellors  whispered  bad  advice  in  the 
king's  ear;  the  courtiers  murmured,  with  one  con- 
sent, that  Perseus  had  shown  disrespect  to  their  royal 
lord  and  master;  and  the  great  King  Polydectes  him° 
self  waved  his  hand  and  ordered  him,  with  the  stern, 
deep  voice  of  authority,  on  his  peril  to  produce  the 
head. 

"  Show  me  the  Gorgon's  head  or  I  will  cut  off  your 
own!" 

And  Perseus  sighed. 

"  This  instant,"  repeated  Polydectes,  "or  you  die!*' 
4 


50  THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 

'*  Behold  it,  then !"  cried  Perseus,  in  a  voice  like 
the  blast  of  a  trumpet. 

And,  suddenly,  holding  up  the  head,  not  an  eyelid 
had  time  to  wink  before  the  wicked  King  Polydectes, 
his  evil  counsellors,  and  all  his  fierce  subjects  were  no 
longer  anything  but  the  mere  images  of  a  monarch 
and  his  people.  They  were  all  fixed  forever  in  the 
look  and  attitude  of  that  moment.  At  the  first 
glimpse  of  the  terrible  head  of  Medusa  they  whitened 
into  marble.  And  Perseus  thrust  the  head  back  into 
his  wallet,  and  went  to  tell  his  dear  mother  that  she 
need  no  longer  be  afraid  of  the  wicked  King  Poly- 
dectes. 


TANGLEWOOD  PORCH. 

AFTER   THE   STORY. 


"Was  not  that  a  very  fine  story?"    asked  Eustace. 

" Oh,  yes,  yes!"  cried  Cowslip,  clapping  her  hands. 
"  And  those  funny  old  women  with  only  one  eye 
among  them !     I  never  heard  of  anything  so  strange.  ** 

"As  to  their  one  tooth,  which  they  shifted  about," 
observed  Primrose,  "  there  was  nothing  so  very  won- 
derful in  that.  I  suppose  it  was  a  false  tooth.  But 
think  of  your  turning  Mercury  into  Quicksilver,  and 
talking  about  his  sister!     You  are  too  ridiculous!" 

"And  was  she  not  his  sister?"  asked  Eustace 
Bright.  "  If  I  had  thought  of  it  sooner,  I  would 
have  described  her  as  a  maiden  lady  who  kept  a  pet 
owl." 

"Well,  at  any  rate,"  said  Primrose,  "your  storj 
seems  to  have  driven  away  the  mist." 

And,  indeed,  while  the  tale  was  going  forward  the 
vapors  had  been  quite  exhaled  from  the  landscape, 
A  scene  was  now  disclosed  which  the  spectators  might 


m  TAKGLEWOOD  PORCH. 

almost  fancy  as  having  been  created  since  they  had 
last  looked  in  the  direction  where  it  lay.  About  half 
a  mile  distant,  in  the  lap  of  the  valley,  now  appeared 
a  beautiful  lake  which  reflected  a  perfect  image  of  its 
own  wooded  banks  and  of  the  summits  of  the  more, 
distant  hills.  It  gleamed  in  glassy  tranquillity, 
without  the  trace  of  a  winged  breeze  on  any  part  of 
its  bosom.  Beyond  its  farther  shore  was  Monument 
Mountain  in  a  recumbent  position,  stretching  almost 
across  the  valley.  Eustace  Bright  compared  it  to  a 
huge  headless  sphinx  wrapped  in  a  Persian  shawl; 
and,  indeed,  so  rich  and  diversified  was  the  autumnal 
foliage  of  its  woods  that  the  simile  of  the  shawl  was 
by  no  means  too  high-colored  for  the  reality.  In  the 
lower  ground,  between  Tangle  wood  and  the  lake,  the 
clumps  of  trees  and  borders  of  woodland  were  chiefly 
golden-leaved  or  dusky  brown,  as  having  suffered 
more  from  frost  than  the  foliage  on  the  hillsides. 

Over  all  this  scene  there  was  a  genial  sunshine, 
intermingled  with  a  slight  haze  which  made  it  un- 
speakably soft  and  tender.  Oh,  what  a  day  of  Indian 
Bummer  was  it  going  to  be!  The  children  snatched 
their  baskets,  and  set  forthwith  hop,  skip,  and  jump, 
and  all  sorts  of  frisks  and  gambols,  while  Cousin 
Eustace  proved  his  fitness  to  preside  over  the  party 
by  outdoing  all  their  antics  and  performing  several 
new  capers  which  none  of  them  could  ever  hope  to 
imitate.     Behind  went  a  good  old  dog  whose  name 


TANGLEWOOD  PORCH.  53 

was  Ben.  He  was  one  of  the  most  respectable  and 
kind-hearted  of  quadrupeds,  and  probably  felt  it  to 
be  his  duty  not  to  trust  the  children  away  from  their 
parents  without  some  better  guardian  than  thig 
feather-brained  Eustace  Bright. 


SHADOW  BROOK. 

INTKODUCTORY  TO  "THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH." 


At  noon  our  juvenile  party  assembled  in  a  dell 
through  the  depths  of  which  ran  a  little  brook.  The 
dell  was  narrow,  and  its  steep  sides,  from  the  margin 
of  the  stream  upward,  were  thickly  set  with  trees, 
chiefly  walnuts  and  chestnuts,  among  which  grew  a 
few  oaks  and  maples.  In  the  summer-time  the  shade 
of  so  many  clustering  branches  meeting  and  inter- 
mingling across  the  rivulet  was  deep  enough  to  pro- 
duce a  noontide  twilight.  Hence  came  the  name  of 
Shadow  Brook.  But  now,  ever,  since  autumn  had 
crept  into  this  secluded  place,  all  the  dark  verdure 
•was  changed  to  gold,  so  that  it  really  kindled  up  the 
dell,  instead  of  shading  it.  The  bright  yellow  leaves, 
even  had  it  been  a  cloudy  day,  would  have  seemed  to 
keep  the  sunlight  among  them ;  and  enough  of  them 
had  fallen  to  strew  all  the  bed  and  margin  of  the 
brook  with  sunlight  too.  Thus  the  shady  nook  where 
summer  had  cooled  herself  was  now  the  sunniest  spot 
anywhere  to  be  found. 


56  SHADOW  BROOK. 

The  little  brook  ran  along  over  its  pathway  of  gold, 
here  pausing  to  form  a  pool  in  which  minnows  were 
darting  to  and  fro,  and  then  it  hurried  onward  at  a 
swifter  pace,  as  if  in  haste  to  reach  the  lake,  and, 
forgetting  to  look  whither  it  went,  it  tumbled  over 
the  root  of  a  tree  which  stretched  quite  across  its 
current.  You  would  have  laughed  to  hear  how 
noisily  it  babbled  about  this  accident.  And  even 
after  it  had  run  onward  the  brook  still  kept  talking 
to  itself,  as  if  it  were  in  a  maze.  It  was  wonder- 
smitten,  I  suppose,  at  finding  its  dark  dells  so  illumi- 
nated and  at  hearing  the  prattle  and  merriment  of  so 
many  children.  So  it  stole  away  as  quickly  as  it 
could  and  hid  itself  in  the  lake. 

In  the  dell  of  Shadow  Brook  Eustace  Bright  and 
his  little  friends  had  eaten  their  dinner.  They  had 
brought  plenty  of  good  things  from  Tanglewood  in 
their  baskets,  and  had  spread  them  out  on  the  stumps 
of  trees  and  on  mossy  trunks,  and  had  feasted  merrily 
and  made  a  very  nice  dinner  indeed.  After  it  was 
over  nobody  felt  like  stirring. 

"We  will  rest  ourselves  here,"  said  several  of  the 
children,  "  while  Cousin  Eustace  tells  us  another  of 
his  pretty  stories." 

Cousin  Eustace  had  a  good  right  to  be  tired  as  well 
as  the  children,  for  he  had  performed  great  feats  on 
that  memorable  forenoon.  Dandelion,  Clover,  Cow- 
slip, and  Buttercup  were  almost  persuaded  that  he 


SHADOV^^  BROOK.  57 

had  winged  slippers  like  those  which  the  Xymphs 
gave  Perseus,  so  often  had  the  student  shown  himself 
at  the  tip-top  of  a  nut  tree,  when  only  a  moment  be- 
fore he  had  been  standing  on  the  ground.  And  then 
what  showers  of  walnuts  had  he  sent  rattling  down 
upon  their  heads  for  their  busy  little  hands  to  gather 
into  the  baskets!  In  short,  he  had  been  as  active  as 
a  squirrel  or  a  monkey,  and  now,  flinging  himself 
down  on  the  yellow  leaves,  seemed  inclined  to  take  a 
little  rest. 

But  children  have  no  mercy  nor  consideration  for 
anybody's  weariness;  and  if  you  had  but  a  single 
breath  left  they  would  ask  you  to  spend  it  in  telling 
them  a  story. 

"Cousin  Eustace,"  said  Cowslip,  "that  was  a  very 
nice  story  of  the  Gorgon's  Head.  Do  you  think  you 
could  tell  us  another  as  good?" 

"Yes,  child,"  said  Eustace,  pulling  the  brim  of 
his  cap  over  his  eyes,  as  if  preparing  for  a  nap.  "  I 
can  tell  you  a  dozen  as  good  or  better,  if  I  choose." 

"  Oh,  Primrose  and  Periwinkle,  do  you  hear  what 
he  says?"  cried  Cowslip,  dancing  with  delight. 
"  Cousin  Eustace  is  going  to  tell  us  a  dozen  better 
stories  than  that  about  the  Gorgon's  Head!" 

"  I  did  not  promise  you  even  one,  you  foolish  little 
Cowslip!"  said  Eustace,  half -pettishly.  "However, 
I  suppose  you  m.ust  have  it.  This  is  the  consequence 
of  having  earned  a  reputation.     I  wish  I  were  a  great 


58  SHADOW  BROOK. 

deal  duller  than  I  am,  or  that  I  had  never  shown  half 
the  bright  qualities  with  which  Nature  has  endowed 
me,  and  then  I  might  have  my  nap  out  in  peace  and 
comfort." 

But  Cousin  Eustace,  as  I  think  I  have  hinted  be- 
fore, was  as  fond  of  telling  his  stories  as  the  children 
of  hearing  them.  His  mind  was  in  a  free  and  happy 
state,  and  took  delight  in  its  ow^n  activity,  and 
scarcely  required  any  external  impulse  to  set  it  at 
work. 

How  different  is  this  spontaneous  play  of  the  in- 
tellect from  the  trained  diligence  of  maturer  years, 
when  toil  has  perhaps  grown  easy  by  long  habit,  and 
the  day's  work  may  have  become  essential  to  the  day's 
comfort,  although  the  rest  of  the  matter  has  bubbled 
away !  This  remark,  however,  is  not  meant  for  the 
children  to  hear. 

Without  further  solicitation,  Eustace  Bright  pro- 
ceeded to  tell  the  following  really  splendid  story.  It 
had  come  into  his  mind  as  he  lay  looking  upward 
into  the  depths  of  a  tree  and  observing  how  the  touch 
of  autumn  had  transmuted  every  one  of  its  green 
leaves  into  what  resembled  the  purest  gold.  And 
this  change,  which  we  have  all  of  us  witnessed,  is  as 
wonderful  as  anything  that  Eustace  told  about  in  the 
story  of  Midas. 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 


Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  a  very  rich  man,  and 
a  king  besides,  whose  name  was  Midas ;  and  he  had 
a  little  daughter  whom  nobody  but  myself  ever  heard 
of,  and  whose  name  I  either  never  knew  or  have  en- 
tirely forgotten.  So,  because,  I  love  odd  names  for 
little  girls,  I  choose  to  call  her  Marigold. 

This  King  Midas  was  fonder  of  gold  than  of  any- 
thing eke  in  the  world.  He  valued  his  royal  crown 
chiefly  because  it  was  composed  of  that  precious 
metal.  If  he  loved  anything  better  or  half  so  well,  it 
was  the  one  little  maiden  who  played  so  merrily 
around  her  father's  footstool.  But  the  more  Midas 
loved  his  daughter,  the  more  did  he  desire  and  seek 
for  wealth.  He  thought,  foolish  man!  that  the  best 
thing  he  could  possibly  do  for  this  dear  child  would 
be  to  bequeath  her  the  immensest  pile  of  yellow  glis- 
tening coin  that  had  ever  been  heaped  together  since 
the  world  was  made.  Thus  he  gave  all  his  thoughts 
and  all  his  time  to  this  one  purpose.  If  he  ever  hap- 
pened to  gaze  for  an  instant  at  the  gold-tinted  clouds 


60  THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 

of  sunset,  he  wished  that  they  were  real  gold  and  that 
they  could  be  squeezed  safely  into  his  strong  box. 
When  little  Marygold  ran  to  meet  him  with  a  bunch 
of  buttercups  and  dandelions  he  used  to  say,  "  Poh, 
poh,  child!  If  these  flowers  were  as  golden  as  they 
look,  they  would  be  worth  the  plucking!" 

And  yet  in  his  earlier  days,  before  he  was  so  en- 
tirely possessed  with  the  insane  desire  for  riches, 
King  Midas  had  shown  a  great  taste  for  flowers.  He 
had  planted  a  garden  in  which  grew  the  biggest  and 
beautifulest  and  sweetest  roses  that  any  mortal  ever 
saw  or  smelt.  These  roses  were  still  growing  in  the 
garden,  as  large,  as  lovely,  and  as  fragrant  as  when 
Midas  nsed  to  pass  whole  hours  in  gazing  at  them  and 
inhaling  their  perfume.  But  now,  if  he  looked  at 
them  at  all,  it  was  only  to  calculate  how  much  the 
garden  would  be  worth  if  each  of  the  innumerable 
rose-petals  were  a  thin  plate  of  gold.  And  though  he 
once  was  fond  of  music  (in  spite  of  an  idle  story  about 
his  ears,  which  were  said  to  resemble  those  of  an  ass), 
the  only  music  for  poor  Midas  now  was  the  chink  of 
one  coin  against  another. 

At  length  (as  people  always  grow  more  and  more 
foolish  unless  they  take  care  to  grow  wiser  and  wiser) 
Midas  had  got  to  be  so  exceedingly  unreasonable  that 
he  could  scarcely  bear  to  see  or  touch  any  object  that 
was  not  gold.  He  made  it  his  custom,  therefore,  to 
pass  a  large  portion  of  every  day  in  a  dark  and  dreary 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCB.  61 

apartment  underground,  at  the  basement  of  hu  pal- 
ace. It  was  here  that  he  kept  his  wealth.  To  this 
dismal  hole — for  it  was  little  better  than  a  dungeon 
— Midas  betook  himself  whenever  he  wanted  to  be 
particularly  happy.  Here,  after  carefully  locking 
the  door,  he  would  take  a  bag  of  gold  coin,  or  a  gold 
cup  as  big  as  a  wash-bowl,  or  a  heavy  golden  bar,  or* 
a  peck-measure  of  gold-dust,  and  bring  it  from  the 
obscure  corners  of  the  room  into  the  one  bright  and 
narrow  sunbeam  that  fell  from  the  dungeon-like  win- 
dow. He  valued  the  sunbeam  for  no  other  reason 
but  that  his  treasure  would  not  shine  without  its 
help.  And  then  would  he  reckon  over  the  coins  in 
the  bag,  toss  up  the  bar  and  catch  it  as  it  came  down, 
sift  the  gold-dust  through  his  fingers,  look  at  the 
funny  image  of  his  own  face  as  reflected  in  the  bur- 
nished circumference  of  the  cup,  and  whisper  to  him- 
self, "  0  Midas,  rich  King  Midas,  what  a  happy  man 
art  thou !"  But  it  was  laughable  to  see  how  the  image 
of  his  face  kept  grinning  at  him  out  of  the  polished 
surface  of  the  cup.  It  seemed  to  be  aware  of  his 
foolish  behavior,  and  to  have  a  naughty  inclination 
to  make  fun  of  him. 

Midas  called  himself  a  happy  man,  but  felt  that  he 
was  not  yet  quite  so  happy  as  he  might  be.  The  very 
tip-top  of  enjoyment  would  never  be  reached  unless 
the  whole  world  were  to  become  his  treasure-room  and 
be  filled  with  yellow  metal  which  should  be  all  his  own. 


62  THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 

Now,  I  need  hardly  remind  snch  wise  little  people 
as  you  are  that  in  the  old,  old  times,  when  King 
Midas  was  alive,  a  great  many  things  came  to  pass 
which  we  should  consider  wonderful  if  they  were  to 
happen  in  our  own  day  and  country.  And,  on  the 
other  hand,  a  great  many  things  take  place  nowa- 
days which  seem  not  only  wonderful  to  us,  but  at 
which  the  people  of  old  times  would  have  stared  their 
eyes  out.  On  the  whole,  I  regard  our  own  times  as 
the  strangest  of  the  two;  but,  however  that  may  be, 
I  must  go  on  with  my  story. 

Midas  was  enjoying  himself  in  his  treasure-room 
one  day  as  usual,  when  he  perceived  a  shadow  fall 
over  the  heaps  of  gold,  and,  looking  suddenly  up, 
what  should  he  behold  but  the  figure  of  a  stranger 
standing  in  the  bright  and  narrow  sunbeam !  It  was 
a  young  man  with  a  cheerful  and  ruddy  face. 
Whether  it  was  that  the  imagination  of  King  Midas 
threw  a  yellow  tinge  over  everything,  or  whatever  the 
cause  might  be,  he  could  not  help  fancying  that  the 
smile  with  which  the  stranger  regarded  him  had  a 
kind  of  golden  radiance  in  it.  Certainly,  although 
his  figure  intercepted  the  sunshine,  there  was  now  a 
brighter  gleam  upon  all  the  piled-up  treasures  than 
before.  Even  the  remotest  corners  had  their  share  ef 
it,  and  were  lighted  up,  when  the  stranger  smiled,  as 
with  tips  of  flame  and  sparkles  of  fire. 

As  Midas  knew  that  he  had  carefully  turned  the 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH.  63 

key  Id  the  lock,  and  that  no  mortal  strength  could 
possibly  break  into  his  treasure-room,  he  of  course 
concluded  that  his  visitor  must  be  something  more 
than  mortal.  It  is  no  matter  about  telling  you  who 
he  was.  In  those  days,  when  the  earth  was  compara- 
tively a  new  affair,  it  was  supposed  to  be  often  the 
resort  of  beings  endowed  with  supernatural  powers, 
and  who  used  to  interest  themselves  in  the  joys  and 
sorrows  of  men,  women,  and  children,  half  playfully 
and  half  seriously.  Midas  had  met  such  beings  be- 
fore now,  and  was  not  sorry  to  meet  one  of  them 
again.  The  stranger's  aspect,  indeed,  was  so  good- 
humored  and  kindly,  if  not  beneficent,  that  it  would 
have  been  unreasonable  to  suspect  him  of  intending 
any  mischief.  It  was  far  more  probable  that  he  came 
to  do  Midas  a  favor.  And  what  could  that  favor  be 
unless  to  multiply  his  heaps  of  treasure? 

The  stranger  gazed  about  the  room,  and  when  his 
lustrous  smile  had  glistened  upon  all  the  golden  ob- 
jects that  were  there,  he  turned  again  to  Midas. 

"Yon  are  a  wealthy  man,  friend  Midas,"  he  ob- 
served. "  I  doubt  whether  anv  other  four  walls  on 
earth  contain  so  much  gold  as  you  have  contrived  to 
pile  up  in  this  room." 

"I  have  done  pretty  well — pretty  well,"  answered 
Midas  in  a  discontented  tone.  *'  But,  after  all,  it 
is  but  a  trifle  when  you  consider  that  it  has  taken 
me  my  whole  life  to  get  it  together.     If  one  could 


64  THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 

live  a  thonsand  years,  he  might  have  time  to  grow 
rich." 

"  What!"  exclaimed  the  straDger.  "  Then  you  are 
not  satisfied?" 

Midas  shook  his  head. 

"And  pray  what  would  satisfy  you?"  asked  the 
stranger.  "  Merely  for  the  curiosity  of  the  thing,  I 
should  be  glad  to  know." 

Midas  paused  and  meditated.  He  felt  a  presenti- 
ment that  this  stranger,  with  such  a  golden  lustre  in 
his  good-liumored  smile,  had  come  hither  with  both 
the  power  and  the  purpose  of  gratifying  his  utmost 
wishes.  Now,  therefore,  was  the  fortunate  moment 
when  he  had  but  to  speak  and  obtain  whatever  possi- 
ble or  seemingly  impossible  thing  it  might  come  into 
his  head  to  ask.  So  he  thought,  and  thought,  and 
thought,  and  heaped  up  one  golden  mountain  upon 
another  in  his  imagination,  without  being  able  to 
imagine  them  big  enough.  At  last  a  bright  idea  oc- 
curred to  King  Midas.  It  seemed  really  as  bright  as 
the  glisteiiing  metal  which  he  loved  so  much. 

Eaising  his  head,  he  looked  the  lustrous  stranger, 
in  the  face. 

"Well,  Midas,"  observed  his  visitor,  "I  see  that 
you  have  at  length  hit  upon  something  that  will  sat- 
isfy you.     Tell  me  your  wish." 

"It  is  only  this,"  replied  Midas:  "I  am  weary  of 
collecting  my  treasures  with  so  much  trouble,  and  be- 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH.  65 

holding  the  heap  so  diminutive  after  I  have  done  my 
best.  I  wish  everything  that  I  touch  to  be  changed 
to  gold." 

The  stranger's  smile  grew  so  very  broad  that  it 
seemed  to  fill  the  room  like  an  outburst  of  the  sun 
gleaming  into  a  shadowy  dell  where  the  yellow  au- 
tumnal leaves — for  so  looked  the  lumps  and  particles 
of  gold — lie  strewn  in  the  glov/  of  light. 

"The  Golden  Touch!"  exclaimed  he.  "You  cer- 
tainly deserve  credit,  friend  Midas,  for  striking  out 
so  brilliant  a  conception.  But  are  you  quite  sure 
that  this  will  satisfy  you?" 

"How  could  it  fail?"  said  Midas. 

"And  will  you  never  regret  the  possession  of  it?" 

"  What  could  induce  me?"  asked  Midas.  "I  ask 
nothing  else  to  render  me  perfectly  happy." 

"Be  it  as  you  wish,  then,"  replied  the  stranger, 
waving  his  hand  in  token  of  farewell.  "  To-morrow 
at  sunrise  you  will  find  yourself  gifted  with  the 
Golden  Touch." 

The  figure  of  the  stranger  then  became  exceedingly 
bright,  and  Midas  involuntarily  closed  his  eyes.  On 
opening  them  again  he  beheld  only  one  yellow  sun- 
beam in  the  room,  and  all  around  him  the  glistening 
of  the  precious  metal  which  he  had  spent  his  life  in 
hoarding  up. 

Whether  Midas  slept  as  usual  that  night  the  story 
does  not  say.  Asleep  or  awake,  however,  his  mind 
3 


66  THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 

was  probably  in  the  state  cf  a  child's  to  whom  a  beau- 
tiful  new  plaything  has  been  promised  in  the  morn- 
ing. At  any  rate,  day  had  hardly  peeped  over  the 
bills  when  King  Midas  was  broad  awake,  and,  stretch- 
ing his  arms  out  of  bed,  began  to  touch  the  objects 
that  were  within  reach.  He  was  anxious  to  prove 
whether  the  Golden  Touch  had  really  come,  accord- 
iDg  to  the  stranger's  promise.  So  he  laid  his  finger 
on  a  chair  by  the  bedside  and  on  various  other  things, 
but  was  grievously  disappointed  to  perceive  that  they 
remained  of  exactly  the  same  substance  as  before. 
Indeed,  he  felt  very  much  afraid  that  he  had  only 
dreamed  about  the  lustrous  stranger,  or  else  that  the 
latter  had  been  making  game  of  him.  And  what  a 
miserable  affair  would  it  be  if,  after  all  his  hopes, 
Midas  must  content  himself  with  what  little  gold  he 
could  scrape  together  by  ordinary  means  instead  of 
creating  it  by  a  touch ! 

All  this  while  it  was  only  the  gray  of  the  morning, 
with  but  a  streak  of  brightness  along  the  edge  of  the 
sky,  where  Midas  could  not  see  it.  He  lay  in  a  very 
disconsolate  mood,  regretting  the  downfall  of  his 
hopes,  and  kept  growing  sadder  and  sadder  until  the 
earliest  sunbeam  shone  through  the  window  and 
gilded  the  ceiling  over  his  head.  It  seemed  to  Midas 
that  this  bright  yellow  sunbeam  was  reflected  in 
rather  a  singular  way  on  the  white  covering  of  the 
bed.     Looking  more  closely,  what  was  his  astonish- 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH.  67 

merit  and  delight  when  he  found  that  this  linen  fab- 
ric had  been  transmuted  to  what  seemed  a  woven 
texture  of  the  purest  and  brightest  gold !  The  Golden 
Touch  had  come  to  him  with  the  first  sunbeam ! 

Midas  started  up  in  a  kind  of  joyful  frenzy,  and 
ran  about  the  room  grasping  at  everything  that  hap- 
pened to  be  in  his  way.  He  seized  one  of  the  bed- 
posts, and  it  became  immediately  a  fluted  golden 
pillar.  He  pulled  aside  a  window-curtain  in  order 
to  admit  a  clear  spectacle  of  the  wonders  which  he 
was  performing,  and  the  tassel  grew  heavy  in  his 
hand — a  mass  of  gold.  He  took  up  a  book  from  the 
table.  At  his  first  touch  it  assumed  the  appearance 
of  such  a  splendidly  bound  and  gilt-edged  volume  as 
one  often  meets  with  nowadays,  but,  on  running  his 
fingers  through  the  leaves,  behold !  it  was  a  bundle 
of  thin  golden  plates,  in  which  all  the  wisdom  of  the 
book  had  grown  illegible.  He  hurriedly  put  on  his 
clothes,  and  was  enraptured  to  see  himself  in  a  mag- 
nificent suit  of  gold  cloth,  which  retained  its  flexi- 
bility and  softness,  although  it  burdened  him  a  little 
with  its  weight.  He  drew  out  his  handkerchief, 
which  little  Marygold  had  hemmed  for  him.  That 
was  likewise  gold,  with  the  dear  child's  neat  and 
pretty  stitches  running  all  along  the  border  in  gold 
thread ! 

Somehow  or  other,  this  last  transformation  did  not 
quite  please  King  Midas.     He  would  rather  that  his 


68  THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 

little  daughter's  handiwork  should  have  remained 
just  the  same  as  when  she  climbed  his  knee  and  put 
it  into  his  hand. 

But  it  was  not  worth  while  to  vex  himself  about  a 
tritle.  Midas  now  took  his  spectacles  from  his  pocket 
and  put  them  on  his  nose  in  order  that  he  might  see 
more  distinctly  what  he  was  about.  Iti  those  days 
spectacles  for  common  people  had  not  been  invented, 
but  were  already  worn  by  kings,  else  how  oould  Midas 
have  had  any?  To  his  great  perplexity,  however, 
excellent  as  the  glasses  were,  he  discovered  that  he 
could  not  possibly  see  through  them.  But  this  was 
the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world,  for  on  taking 
them  off  the  transparent  crystals  turned  out  to  be 
plates  of  yellow  metal,  and  of  course  were  worthless 
as  spectacles,  though  valuable  as  gold.  It  struck 
Midas  as  rather  inconvenient  that,  with  all  his  wealth, 
he  could  never  again  be  rich  enough  to  own  a  pair  of 
serviceable  spectacles. 

"It  is  no  great  matter,  nevertheless,"  said  he  to 
himself  very  philosophically.  "  We  cannot  expect 
any  great  good  without  its  being  accompanied  with 
some  small  inconvenience.  The  Golden  Touch  is 
worth  the  sacrifice  of  a  pair  of  spectacles  at  least,  if 
not  of  one's  very  eyesight.  My  own  eyes  will  serve 
for  ordinary  purposes,  and  little  Marygold  will  soon 
be  old  enough  to  read  to  miC." 

Wise  King  Midas  was  so  exalted  by  his  good  for- 


/ 


/ 


I 


A 


.^• 

.•-*'' 
V 


"%•■ 


\. 


A  W  under  Book     i 


THE  DYING  MEDUSA 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH.  69 

tune  that  the  palace  seemed  not  sufficiently  spacious 
to  contain  him.  He  therefore  went  downstairs,  and 
smiled  on  observing  that  the  balustrade  of  the  stair-^ 
case  became  a  bar  of  burnished  gold  as  his  hand? 
passed  over  it  in  his  descent.  He  lifted  the  door- 
latch  (it  was  brass  only  a  moment  ago,  but  golden 
when  his  fingers  quitted  it)  and  emerged  into  the 
garden.  Here,  as  it  happened,  he  found  a  great 
number  of  beautiful  roses  in  full  bloom,  and  others 
in  all  the  stages  of  lovely  bud  and  blossom.  Very 
delicious  was  their  fragrance  in  the  morning  breeze. 
Their  delicate  blush  was  one  of  the  fairest  sights  in 
the  world,  so  gentle,  so  modest,  and  so  full  of  sweet 
tranquillity  did  these  roses  seem  to  be. 

But  Midas  knew  a  way  to  make  them  far  more 
precious,  according  to  his  way  of  thinking,  than 
roses  had  ever  been  before.  So  he  took  great  pains 
in  going  from  bush  to  bush,  and  exercised  his  magic 
touch  moet  indefatigably,  until  every  individual 
flower  and  bud,  and  even  the  worms  at  the  heart  of 
some  of  them,  were  changed  to  gold.  By  the  tim^ 
this  good  work  was  completed  King  Midas  was  sum- 
moned to  breakfast,  and,  as  the  morning  air  had 
given  him  an  excellent  appetite,  he  made  haste  back 
to  the  palace. 

What  was  usually  a  king's  breakfast  in  the  days  of 
Midas  I  really  do  not  know,  and  cannot  stop  now  to 
investigate.     To  the  best  of  my  belief,  however,  on 


70  THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 

this  particular  morning  the  breakfast  consisted  of  hot 
cakes,  some  nice  little  brook  trout,  roasted  potatoes, 
fresh  boiled  eggs,  and  coffee  for  King  Midas  himself, 
and  a  bowl  of  bread  and  milk  for  his  daughter  Mary- 
2old.  At  all  events,  this  is  a  breakfast  fit  to  set 
before  a  king,  and,  whether  he  had  it  or  not,  King 
Midas  could  not  have  had  a  better. 

Little  Marygold  had  not  yet  made  her  appearance. 
Her  father  ordered  her  to  be  called,  and,  seating 
himself  at  table,  awaited  the  child's  coming  in  order 
to  begin  his  own  breakfast.  To  do  Midas  justice,  he 
really  loved  his  daughter,  and  loved  her  so  much  the 
more  this  morning  on  account  of  the  good  fortune 
which  had  befallen  him.  It  was  not  a  great  while 
before  he  heard  her  coming  along  the  passageway 
crying  bitterly.  This  circumstance  surprised  him, 
because  Marygold  was  one  of  the  cheerfulest  little 
people  whom  you  would  see  in  a  summer's  day,  and 
hardly  shed  a  thimbleful  of  tears  in  a  twelvemonth. 
"When  Midas  heard  her  sobs,  he  determined  to  put 
little  Marygold  into  better  spirits  by  an  agreeable 
surprise;  so,  leaning  across  the  table,  he  touched  his 
daughter's  bowl  (which  was  a  china  one,  with  pretty 
figures  all  around  it)  and  transmuted  it  to  gleaming 
gold. 

Meanwhile  Marygold  slowly  and  disconsolately 
opened  the  door,  and  showed  herself  with  her  apron 
at  her  eyes,  still  sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH.  71 

"How  now,  my  little  lady!"  cried  Midas.  "Pray 
what  is  the  matter  with  you  this  bright  morning?" 

Marygold,  without  taking  the  apron  from  her  eyes, 
held  out  her  hand,  in  which  was  one  of  the  roses 
which  Midas  had  so  recently  transmuted. 

*' Beautiful!"  exclaimed  her  father.  "And  what 
is  there  in  this  magnificent  golden  rose  to  make  ;  ou 
cry?" 

"Ah,  dear  father!"  answered  the  child,  as  well  as 
her  sobs  would  let  her,  "  it  is  not  beautiful,  but  the 
ugliest  flower  that  ever  grew.  As  soon  as  I  was 
dressed  I  ran  into  the  garden  to  gather  some  roses  for 
you,  because  I  know  you  like  them,  and  like  tlicm 
the  better  when  gathered  by  your  little  daughter. 
But — oh  dear!  dear  me! — what  do  you  think  has 
happened?  Such  a  misfortune!  All  the  beautiful 
roses,  that  smelled  so  sweetly  and  had  so  many  lovely 
blushes,  are  blighted  and  spoilt!  They  are  grown 
quite  yellow,  as  you  see  this  one,  and  have  no  longer 
any  fragrance.     What  can  be  the  matter  with  them?" 

"  Poh,  my  dear  little  girl !  pray  don't  cry  about  it !" 
said  Midas,  who  was  ashamed  to  confess  that  he  him- 
self had  wrought  the  change  which  so  greatly  afflicted 
her.  "  Sit  down  and  eat  your  bread  and  milk.  You 
will  find  it  easy  enough  to  exchange  a  golden  rose  like 
that,  which  will  last  hundreds  of  years,  for  an  ordi- 
nary one,  which  would  wither  in  a  day." 

"I  don't  care  for  such  roses  as  this!"  cried  Mary-    , 


73  THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 

gold,  tossing  it  contemptuously  away.     "It  has  no 
smell  and  the  hard  petals  prick  my  nose." 

The  child  now  sat  down  to  table,  but  was  so  oc- 
cupied with  her  grief  for  the  blighted  roses  that  she 
did  not  even  notice  the  wonderful  transmutation  of 
iier  china-bowl.  Perhaps  this  was  all  the  better,  for 
Marygold  was  accustomed  to  take  pleasure  in  looking 
at  the  queer  figures  and  strange  trees  and  houses  that 
were  painted  on  the  circumference  of  the  bowl,  and 
these  ornaments  were  now  entirely  lost  in  the  yellow 
hue  of  the  metal. 

Midas  meanwhile  had  poured  out  a  cup  of  coffee; 
and  as  a  matter  of  course  the  coffee-pot,  whatever 
metal  it  may  have  been  when  he  took  it  up,  was  gold 
when  he  set  it  down.  He  thought  to  himself  that  it 
was  rather  an  extravagant  style  of  splendor,  in  a  king 
of  his  simple  habits,  to  breakfast  oS  a  service  of  gold, 
and  began  to  be  puzzled  with  the  difficulty  of  keep- 
ing his  treasures  safe.  The  cupboard  and  the  kitchen 
would  no  longer  be  a  secure  place  of  deposit  for 
articles  so  valuable  as  golden  bowls  and  coffee-pots. 

Amid  these  thoughts,  he  lifted  a  spoonful  of  coffee 
to  his  lips,  and,  sipping  it,  was  astonished  to  per- 
ceive that  the  instant  his  lips  touched  the  liquid  it 
became  molten  gold,  and  the  next  moment  hardened 
into  a  lump. 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  Midas,  rather  aghast. 

"What  is  the  m*j'-^'^r,  fa^^^er?"  asked  little  Mary- 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH.  7» 

gold,  gazing  at  him  with  the  tears  still  standing  in 
her  eyes. 

*•' Nothing,  child,  nothing,"  said  Midas.  "Eat 
your  milk  before  it  gets  quite  cold." 

He  took  one  of  the  nice  little  trout  on  his  plate, 
and,  by  way  of  experiment,  touched  its  tail  with  his 
finger.  To  his  horror,  it  v^'as  immediately  trans- 
muted from  an  admirably  fried  brook  trout  into  a 
gold  fish,  though  not  one  of  those  gold  fishes  which 
people  often  keep  in  glass  globes  as  ornaments  for  the 
parlor.  No;  but  it  was  really  a  metal]ic  fish,  and 
looked  as  if  it  had  been  very  cunningly  made  by  the 
nicest  goldsmith  in  the  world.  Its  little  bones  were 
now  golden  wires,  its  fins  and  tail  were  thin  plates  of 
gold,  and  there  were  the  marks  of  the  fork  in  it,  and 
all  the  delicate,  frothy  appearance  of  a  nicely  fried 
fish  exactly  imitated  in  metal.  A  very  pretty  piece 
of  work,  as  you  may  suppose,  only  King  Midas,  just 
at  that  moment,  would  much  rather  have  had  a  real 
trout  in  his  dish  than  this  elaborate  and  valuable 
imitation  of  one. 

"I  don't  quite  see,"  thought  he  to  himself,  "how 
I  am  to  get  any  breakfast." 

He  took  one  of  the  smoking  hot  cakes,  and  had 
scarcely  broken  it  when,  to  his  cruel  mortification, 
though  a  moment  before  it  had  been  of  the  whitest 
wheat,  it  assumed  the  yellow  hue  of  Indian  meal. 
To  say  the  truth,  if  it  had  really  been  a  hot  Indiai* 


f4  THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 

cake  Mid-^  would  have  prized  it  a  good  deal  more 
than  he  now  did,  when  its  solidity  and  increased 
weight  made  him  too  bitterly  sensible  that  it  was 
gold.  Almost  in  despair,  he  helped  himself  to  a 
boiled  ^g;:,  which  immediately  underwent  a  change 
similar  to  those  of  the  trout  and  the  cake.  The  Qgg, 
indeed,  might  have  been  mistaken  for  one  of  those 
which  the  famous  goose  in  the  story-book  was  in  the 
habit  of  laving;  but  King  Midas  was  the  only  goose 
that  had  had  anything  to  do  with  the  matter. 

•*  Yf ell,  this  is  a  quandary!"  thought  he,  leaning 
back  in  his  chair  and  lookinor  enviously  at  little 
Marygold,  who  was  now  eating  her  bread  and  milk 
wiib  great  satisfaction.  "  Such  a  costly  breakfast  be- 
fcie  me,  and  nothing  that  can  be  eaten!" 

Hoping:  that,  by  dint  of  great  dispatch,  he  might 
avoid  wha^  he  now  felt  to  be  a  considerable  incon- 
venience, King  Midas  next  snatched  a  hot  potato, 
and  attempted  to  cram  it  into  his  mouth  and  swallow 
it  in  a  hurry.  But  the  Golden  Touch  was  too  nimble 
for  him.  He  found  his  mouth  full,  not  of  mealy 
potato,  but  of  solid  metal,  which  so  burnt  his  tongue 
that  he  roared  aloud,  and,  jumping  up  from  the 
table,  be^an  to  dance  and  stamp  about  the  room  both 
with  pain  and  affright. 

"Father,  dear  father!"  cried  little  Marygold,  who 
was  a  very  affectionate  child,  "  pray,  what  is  the  mat- 
ter?    Have  you  burnt  your  mouth?" 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH.  75 

"Ah,  dear  child,"  groaned  Midas,  dolefully,  "I 
don't  know  what  is  to  become  of  your  poor 
father." 

And  truly,  my  dear  little  folks,  did  you  e^er  hear 
of  such  a  pitiable  case  in  all  your  lives?  Here  was 
literally  the  richest  breakfast  that  could  be  set  betore 
a  king,  and  its  very  richness  made  it  absolutely  good 
for  nothing.  The  poorest  laborer  sitting  down  to  his 
crust  of  bread  and  cup  of  water  was  far  better  oS 
than  King  Midas,  whose  delicate  food  was  really 
worth  its  weight  in  gold.  And  what  was  to  be  done? 
Already,  at  breakfast,  Midas  was  excessively  hungry. 
Would  he  be  less  so  by  dinner-time?  And  how 
ravenous  would  be  his  appetite  for  supper,  which 
must  undoubtedly  consist  of  the  same  sort  of  indi- 
gestible dishes  as  those  now  before  him  !  How  many 
days,  think  you,  would  he  survive  a  continuance  of 
this  rich  fare? 

These  reflections  so  troubled  wise  King  Midas  thf 
he  began  to  doubt  whether,  after  all,  riches  are  th 
one  desirable  thing  in  the  world,  or  even  the  m.ost 
desirable.  But  this  was  only  a  passing  thought.  So 
fascinated  was  Midas  with  the  glitter  of  the  yellow 
metal  that  he  would  still  have  refused  to  give  up  the 
Golden  Touch  for  so  paltry  a  consideration  as  a 
breakfast.  Just  imagine  what  a  price  for  one  meal's 
victuals!  It  would  have  been  the  same  as  paying 
millions  and  millions  of  money  (and  as  many  millions 


76  THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 

more  as  would  take  forever  to  reckon  np)  for  som« 
fried  trout,  an  Qgg^  a  potato,  a  hot  cake,  and  a  cup 
of  coffee. 

"It  would  be  quite  too  dear,"  thought  Midas. 

Nevertheless,  so  great  was  his  hunger  and  the  per- 
plexity of  his  situation  that  he  again  groaned  aloud, 
and  very  grievously  too.  Our  pretty  Marygold  could 
endure  it  no  longer.  She  sat  a  moment  gazing  at 
her  father,  and  trying  with  all  the  might  of  her  little 
wits  to  find  out  what  was  the  matter  with  him. 
Then,  with  a  sweet  and  sorrowful  impulse  to  comfort 
him,  she  started  from  her  chair  and,  running  ta 
Midas,  threw  her  arms  affectionately  about  his  knees. 
He  bent  down  and  kissed  her.  He  felt  that  his  little 
daughter's  love  was  worth  a  thousand  times  more 
than  he  had  gained  by  the  Golden  Touch. 

"My  precious,  precious  Marygold!"  cried  he. 

Bat  Marygold  made  no  answer. 

Alas,  what  had  he  done?  How  fatal  was  the  gift 
which  the  stranger  bestowed!  The  moment  the  lips 
of  Midas  touched  Marygold's  forehead  a  change  had 
taken  place.  Her  sweet  rosy  face,  so  full  of  affection 
as  it  had  been,  assumed  a  glittering  yellow  color,  with 
yellow  teardrops  congealing  on  her  cheeks.  Her 
beautiful  brown  ringlets  took  the  same  tint.  Her 
soft  and  tender  little  form  grew  hard  and  inflexible 
within  her  father's  encircling  arms.  Oh,  terrible 
jaaisfortune!     The  victim  of  his  insatiable  desire  for 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH.  71 

wealth,  little  Marygold,  was  a  human  child  no  longer, 
but  a  golden  statue! 

Yes,  there  she  was,  with  the  questioning  look  of 
love,  grief,  and  pity  hardened  into  her  face.  It  was 
the  prettiest  and  most  woeful  sight  that  ever  mortal 
saw.  All  the  features  and  tokens  of  Marygold  were 
there;  even  the  beloved  little  dimple  remained  in  her 
golden  chin.  But  the  more  perfect  was  this  re- 
semblance the  greater  was  the  father's  agony  at  be- 
holding this  golden  image,  which  was  all  that  was 
left  him  of  a  daughter.  It  had  been  a  favorite  phrase 
of  Midas,  whenever  he  felt  particularly  fond  of  the 
child,  to  say  that  she  was  worth  her  weight  in  gold. 
And  now  the  phrase  had  become  literally  true.  And 
now  at  last,  when  it  was  too  late,  he  felt  how  infinitely 
a  warm  and  tender  heart  that  loved  him  exceeded  in 
value  all  the  wealth  that  could  be  piled  up  betwixt 
the  earth  and  sky. 

It  would  be  too  sad  a  story  if  I  were  to  tell  you 
how  Midas,  in  the  fulness  of  all  his  gratified  desires, 
began  to  wring  his  hands  and  bemoan  himself,  and 
how  he  could  neither  bear  to  look  at  Marygold,  nor 
yet  to  look  away  from  her.  Except  when  his  eyes 
were  fixed  on  the  image  he  could  not  possibly  believe 
that  she  was  changed  to  gold.  But,  stealing  another 
glance,  there  was  the  precious  little  figure,  with  a 
yellow  tear-drop  on  its  yellow  cheek,  and  a  look  so 
piteous  and  tender  that  it  seemed  as  if  that  very  ex- 


78  THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 

pression  must  needs  soften  the  gold  and  make  it  rles 
again.  This,  however,  could  not  be.  So  Midas  had 
only  to  wring  his  hands  and  to  wish  that  he  were  the 
poorest  man  in  the  wide  world  if  the  loss  of  all  his 
wealth  might  bring  back  the  faintest  rose-color  to 
his  dear  child's  face. 

While  he  was  in  this  tumult  of  despair  he  suddenly 
beheld  a  stranger  standing  near  the  door.  Midas 
bent  down  his  head  without  speaking,  for  he  recog- 
nized the  same  figure  which  had  appeared  to  him  the 
day  before  in  the  treasure-room  and  had  bestowed  on 
him  this  disastrous  faculty  of  the  Golden  Touch. 
The  stranger's  countenance  still  wore  a  smile  which 
seemed  to  shed  a  yellow  lustre  all  about  the  room,  and 
gleamed  on  little  Marygold's  image  and  on  the  other 
objects  that  had  been  transmuted  by  the  touch  of 
Midas. 

"Well,  friend  Midas,"  said  the  stranger,  "pray 
how  do  you  succeed  with  the  Golden  Touch?" 

Midas  shook  his  head. 

"  I  am  very  miserable,"  said  he. 

"  Very  miserable,  indeed !"  exclaimed  the  stranger. 
"And  how  happens  that?  Have  I  not  faithfully 
kept  my  promise  with  you  ?  Have  you  not  everything 
that  your  heart  desired?" 

"Gold  is  not  everything,"  answered  Midas,  "and 
I  have  lost  all  that  my  heart  really  cared  for." 

"  Ah !     So  yon  have  made  a  discovery  since  yester- 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH.  79 

day?"  observed  the  stranger.  "Let  us  ses,  then. 
Which  of  these  two  things  do  you  think  is  really 
worth  the  most — the  gift  of  the  Golden  Touch  or  one 
cup  of  clear  cold  water?" 

"Oh,  blessed  water!"  exclaimed  Midas.  "It  will 
never  moisten  my  parched  throat  again." 

"The  Golden  Touch,"  continued  the  stranger,  "or^ 
a  crust  of  bread?" 

"A  piece  of  bread,"  answered  Midas,  "is  worth  all 
the  gold  on  earth." 

"The  Golden  Touch,"  asked  the  stranger,  "or 
your  own  little  Marygold,  warm,  soft,  and  loving,  as 
she  was  an  hour  ago?" 

"Oh,  my  child,  my  dear  child!"  cried  poor  Midas, 
wringing  his  hands.  "  I  would  not  have  given  that 
one  small  dimple  in  her  chin  for  the  power  of  chang- 
ing this  whole  big  earth  into  a  solid  lump  of  gold !" 

"You  are  wiser  than  you  were,  King  Midas,"  said 
the  stranger,  looking  seriously  at  him.  "Your  own 
heart,  I  perceive,  has  not  been  entirely  changed  from 
fiesh  to  gold.  Were  it  so,  your  case  would  indeed  b» 
desperate.  But  you  appear  to  be  still  capable  of  un- 
derstanding that  the  commonest  things,  such  as  lie 
within  everybody's  grasp,  are  more  valuable  than  the 
riches  which  so  many  mortals  sigh  and  struggle  after. 
Tell  me,  now,  do  you  sincerely  desire  to  rid  yourself 
of  this  Golden  Touch?" 

"It  is  hateful  to  me!"  replied  Midas. 


fiO  THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 

A  fly  settled  on  his  nose,  but  immediately  fell  to 
the  floor,  for  it  too  had  become  gold.  Midas  shud- 
dered. 

"Go,  then,"  said  the  stranger,  "and  plunge  into 
the  river  that  glides  past  the  bottom  of  your  garden. 
Take  likewise  a  vase  of  the  same  water,  and  sprin- 
kle it  over  any  object  that  you  may  desire  to  change 
back  again  from  gold  into  its  former  substance.  If 
you  do  this  in  earnestness  and  sincerity,  it  may  pos- 
sibly repair  the  mischief  which  your  avarice  has  occa- 
sioned." 

King  Midas  bowed  low,  and  when  he  lifted  his  head 
the  lustrous  stranger  had  vanished. 

You  will  easily  believe  that  Midas  lost  no  time  in 
snatching  up  a  great  earthen  pitcher  (but,  alas  me!  it 
was  no  longer  earthen  after  he  touched  it)  and  hasten- 
ing to  the  river-side.  As  he  scampered  along  and 
forced  his  way  through  the  shrubbery,  it  was  possibly 
marvellous  to  see  how  the  foliage  turned  yellow  be- 
hind him,  as  if  the  autumn  had  been  there  and  no- 
where else.  On  reaching  the  river's  brink  he  plunged 
headlong  in,  without  waiting  so  much  as  to  pull  off 
his  shoes. 

"Poof!  poof!  poof!"  snorted  King  Midas  as  his 
head  emerged  out  of  the  water.  "  Well,  this  is  really 
a  refreshing  bath,  and  I  think  it  must  have  quite 
washed  away  the  Golden  Touch.  And  now  for  filling 
my  pitcher." 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH.  81 

As  he  dipped  the  pitcher  into  the  water  it  gladdened 
his  very  heart  to  see  it  change  from  gold  into  the 
same  good,  honest  earthen  vessel  which  it  had  been 
jefore  he  touched  it.  He  was  conscious  also  of  a 
change  within  himself.  A  cold,  hard,  and  heavy- 
weight seemed  to  have  gone  out  of  his  bosom.  No 
doubt  his  heart  had  been  gradually  losing  its  human 
substance  and  transmuting  itself  into  insensible  metal, 
but  had  now  softened  back  again  into  flesh.  Perceiv- 
ing a  violet  that  grew  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  Midas 
touched  it  with  his  finger,  and  was  overjoyed  to  find 
that  the  delicate  flower  retained  its  purple  hue,  in- 
stead of  undergoing  a  yellow  blight.  The  curse  of 
the  Golden  Touch  had  therefore  really  been  removed 
from  him. 

King  Midas  hastened  back  to  the  palace,  and  I 
suppose  the  servants  knew  not  what  to  make  of  it 
when  they  saw  their  royal  master  so  carefully  bring- 
ing home  an  earthen  pitcher  of  water.  But  that 
water,  which  was  to  undo  all  the  mischief  that  his 
folly  had  wrought,  was  more  precious  to  Midas  than 
an  ocean  of  molten  gold  could  have  been.  The  first 
thing  he  did,  as  you  need  hardly  be  told,  was  to 
sprinkle  it  by  handfuls  over  the  golden  figure  of  little 
Marygold. 

No  sooner  did  it  fall  on  her  than  you  would  have 
laughed  to  see  how  the  rosy  color  came  back  to  the 
dear  child's  cheek,  and  how  she  began  to  sneeze  and 
6 


82  THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 

sputter,  and  how  astonished  she  was  to  find  herself 
dripping  wet  and  her  father  still  throwing  more 
water  over  her. 

"  Prav  do  not,  dear  father!"  cried  she.  "  See  how 
you  have  wet  my  nice  frock,  which  I  put  on  only 
this  morning." 

For  Marvgold  did  not  know  that  she  had  been  a 
little  golden  statue,  nor  could  she  remember  anything 
that  had  happened  since  the  moment  when  she  ran 
with  outstretched  arms  to  comfort  poor  King  Midas. 

Her  father  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  tell  his 
beloved  child  how  very  foolish  he  had  been,  but  con- 
tented himself  with  showing  how  much  wiser  he  had 
now  grown.  For  this  purpose  he  led  little  Marygold 
into  the  garden,  where  he  sprinkled  all  the  remainder 
of  the  water  over  the  rosebushes,  and  with  such  good 
effect  that  above  five  thousand  roses  recovered  their 
beautiful  bloom.  There  were  two  circumstances, 
however,  which,  as  long  as  he  lived,  used  to  put 
Kiug  Midas  in  mind  of  the  Golden  Touch.  One  was 
that  the  sands  of  the  river  sparkled  like  gold;  the 
other,  that  little  Marygold's  hair  had  now  a  golden 
tinge  which  he  had  never  observed  in  it  before  she 
had  been  transmuted  bv  the  effect  of  his  kiss.  The 
change  of  hue  was  really  an  improvement,  and  made 
Marvsfold's  hair  richer  than  in  her  babvhood. 

When  King  Midas  had  grow  quite  an  old  man,  and 
Bsed  to  trot  Marygold's  children  on  his  knee,  he  was 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH.  8a 

fond  of  telling  them  this  marvellous  story,  pretty 
much  as  I  have  now  told  it  to  you.  And  then  would 
he  stroke  their  glossy  ringlets  and  tell  them  that  their 
hair  likewise  had  a  rich  shade  of  gold,  which  they 
had  inherited  from  their  mother. 

"And,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  my  precious  little 
folks,"  quoth  King  Midas,  diligently  trotting  the 
children  all  the  while,  "  ever  since  that  morning  I 
have  hated  the  very  sight  of  all  other  gold  save  this." 


SHADOW  BROOK. 

AFTER  THE   STOEY. 


"Well,  children,"  inquired  Eustace,  who  was  very 
fond  of  eliciting  a  definite  opinion  from  his  auditors, 
**  did  yon  ever,  in  all  your  lives,  listen  to  a  better 
story  than  this  of  'The  Golden  Touch'?" 

"Why,  as  to  the  story  of  King  Midas,"  said  saucy 
Primrose,  "  it  was  a  famous  one  thousands  of  years 
before  Mr.  Eustace  Bright  came  into  the  world,  and 
will  continue  to  be  so  long  after  he  quits  it.  But 
some  people  have  what  we  may  call  'The  Leaden 
Touch,'  and  make  everything  dull  and  heavy  that 
they  lay  their  fingers  upon." 

"  You  are  a  smart  child,  Primrose,  to  be  not  yet  in 
your  teens,"  said  Eustace,  taken  rather  aback  by  the 
piquancy  of  her  criticism.  "  But  you  well  know  in 
your  naughty  little  heart  that  I  have  burnished  the 
old  gold  of  Midas  all  over  anew,  and  have  made  it 
shine  as  it  never  shone  before.  And  then  that  figure 
of  Marygold !     Do  you  perceive  no  nice  workmanship 


A  Wonder  Book  2 


JUPITER 


SHADOW  BROOK.  85 

in  that?  And  how  finely  I  have  brought  out  and 
deepened  the  moral!  What  say  you,  Sweet  Fern, 
Dandelion,  Clover,  Periwinkle?  Would  any  of  you, 
after  hearing  this  story,  be  so  foolish  as  to  desire  the 
faculty  of  changing  things  to  gold?" 

"I  should  like,"  said  Periwinkle,  a  girl  of  ten,  "to 
have  the  power  of  turning  everything  to  gold  with 
my  right  forefinger,  but  with  my  left  forefinger  I 
should  want  the  power  of  changing  it  back  again  if 
the  first  change  did  not  j^lease  me.  And  I  know 
what  I  would  do  this  very  afternoon." 

"  Pray  tell  me,"  said  Eustace. 

"Why,"  answered  Periwinkle,  "I  would  touch 
every  one  of  those  golden  leaves  on  the  trees  with  my 
left  forefinger  and  make  them  all  green  again,  so  that 
we  might  have  the  summer  back  at  once,  with  no 
ugly  winter  in  the  mean  time." 

"Oh,  Periwinkle!"  cried  Eustace  Bright,  "there 
you  are  wrong,  and  would  do  a  great  deal  of  mischief. 
Were  I  Midas,  I  would  make  nothing  else  but  just 
such  golden  days  as  these,  over  and  over  again,  all 
the  year  throughout.  My  best  thoughts  always  come 
a  little  too  late.  Why  did  I  not  tell  you  how  old 
King  Midas  came  to  America  and  changed  the  dusky 
autumn,  such  as  it  is  in  other  countries,  into  the 
burnished  beauty  which  it  here  puts  on?  He  gilded 
the  leaves  of  the  great  volume  of  Nature." 

"Cousin  Eustace,"  said  Sweet  Fern,  a  good  little 


86  SHADOW  BROOK. 

boy,  who  was  always  making  particular  inquiries  about 
the  precise  height  of  giants  and  the  littleness  of  fair- 
ies, "  how  big  was  Marygold,  and  how  much  did  she 
weigh  when  she  was  turned  to  gold?" 
'  "She  was  about  as  tall  as  you  are,"  replied  Eus- 
tace,  "and,  as  gold  is  very  heavy,  she  weighed  at 
least  two  thousand  pounds,  and  might  have  been 
coined  into  thirty  or  forty  thousand  gold  dollars.  I 
wish  Primrose  were  worth  half  as  much.  Come,  little 
people,  let  us  clamber  out  of  the  dell  and  look  about 
us." 

They  did  so.  The  sun  was  now  an  hour  or  two 
beyond  its  noontide  mark,  and  filled  the  great  hollow 
of  the  valley  with  its  western  radiance,  so  that  it 
seemed  to  be  brimming  with  mellow  light,  and  to 
spill  it  over  the  surrounding  hillsides  like  golden 
wine  out  of  a  bowl.  It  was  such  a  day  that,  you 
could  not  help  saying  of  it,  "  There  never  was  such 
a  day  before,"  although  yesterday  was  just  such  a 
day,  and  to-morrow  will  be  just  such  another.  Ah, 
but  there  are  very  few  of  them  in  a  twelvemonth's 
circle!  It  is  a  remarkable  peculiarity  of  these  Octo- 
ber days  that  each  of  them  seems  to  occupy  a  great 
deal  of  space,  although  the  sun  rises  rather  tardily 
at  that  season  of  the  year,  and  goes  to  bed,  as  little 
children  ought,  at  sober  six  o'clock,  or  even  earlier. 
We  cannot  therefore  call  the  days  long,  but  they  ap' 
pear,  somehow  or  other,  to  make  up  for  their  short" 


SHADOW  BROOK.  87 

Dess  by  their  breadth,  and  when  the  cool  night  comes 
we  are  conscious  of  having  enjoyed  a  big  armful  of 
life  since  morning. 

"Come,  children,  come!"  cried  Enstace  Bright. 
"More  nuts,  more  nuts,  more  nuts!  Fill  all  your 
baskets,  and  at  Christmas-time  I  will  crack  them  for 
you  and  tell  you  beautiful  stories." 

So  away  they  went,  all  of  them  in  excellent  spir- 
its, except  little  Dandelion,  who,  I  am  sorry  to  tell 
you,  had  been  sitting  on  a  chestnut-burr,  and  was 
stuck  as  full  as  a  pincushion  of  its  prickles.  Dear  me, 
how  uncomfortable  he  must  have  felt! 


TANGLEWOOD  PLAY-ROOM. 

INTEODUCTORY    TO    "THE    PAEADISE    OP 

CHILDEEN." 


The  golden  days  of  October  passed  away,  as  so 
many  other  Octobers  have,  and  brown  November  like- 
wise, and  the  greater  part  of  chill  December  too.  At 
last  came  merry  Christmas,  and  Eustace  Bright  along 
with  it,  making  it  all  the  merrier  by  his  presence, 
and  the  day  after  his  arrival  from  college  there  came 
a  mighty  snowstorm.  Up  to  this  time  the  winter 
had  held  back,  and  had  given  us  a  good  many  mild 
days  which  were  like  smiles  upon  its  wrinkled  visage. , 
The  grass  had  kept  itself  green  in  sheltered  places, 
such  as  the  nooks  of  southern  hill-slopes  and  along 
the  lee  of  the  stone  fences.  It  was  but  a  week  or  two 
ago,  and  since  the  beginning  of  the  month,  that  the 
children  had  found  a  dandelion  in  bloom  on  the  mar- 
gin of  Shadow  Brook  where  it  glides  out  of  the  dell. 

But  no    more   green  grass   and   dandelions   now. 
This  was    such  a  snowstorm!     Twenty   miles   of  it 


90  TANGLEWOOD  PLAY-ROOM. 

might  have  been  visible  at  once,  between  the  windows 
of  Tanglewood  and  the  Dome  of  Taconic,  had  it  been 
possible  to  see  so  far  among  the  eddying  drifts  that 
whitened  all  the  atmosphere.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
hills  were  giants,  and  were  flinging  monstrous  hand- 
fuls  of  snow  at  one  another  in  their  enormous  sport. 
So  thick  were  the  fluttering  snowflakes  that  even  the 
trees  midway  down  the  valley  were  hidden  by  them 
the  greater  part  of  the  time.  Sometimes,  it  is  true, 
the  little  prisoners  of  Tanglewood  could  discern  a 
dim  outline  of  Monument  Mountain,  and  the  smooth 
whiteness  of  the  frozen  lake  at  its  base,  and  the  black 
or  gray  tracts  of  woodland  in  the  nearer  landscape. 
But  these  were  merely  peeps  through  the  tempest. 

Nevertheless,  the  children  rejoiced  greatly  in  the 
snowstorm.  They  had  already  made  acquaintance 
with  it  by  tumbling  heels  over  head  into  its  highest 
drifts,  and  flinging  snow  at  one  another,  as  we  have 
just  fancied  the  Berkshire  mountains  to  be  doing. 
And  now  they  had  come  back  to  their  spacious  play- 
room, which  was  as  big  as  the  great  drawing-room, 
and  was  lumbered  with  all  sorts  of  playthings,  large 
and  small.  The  biggest  was  a  rocking-horse  that 
looked  like  a  real  pony;  and  there  was  a  whole  family 
of  wooden,  waxen,  plaster,  and  china  dolls,  besides 
rag-babies;  and  blocks  enough  to  build  Bunker  Hill 
Monument,  and  ninepins,  and  balls,  and  humming- 
tops  and  battledoors,  and  grace-sticks,  and  skipping- 


TANGLEWOOD  PLAY-ROOM.  91 

ropes,  and  more  of  such  valuable  property  than  I 
could  tell  of  Id  a  printed  page.  But  the  children 
liked  the  snowstorm  better  than  them  all.  It  sug- 
gested so  many  brisk  enjoyments  for  to-morrow  and 
all  the  remainder  of  the  winter — the  sleigh-ride,  the 
slides  down  hill  into  the  valley,  the  snow  images  that 
were  to  be  shaped  out,  the  snow  fortresses  that  were 
to  be  built,  and  the  snowballing  to  be  carried  on! 

So  the  little  folks  blessed  the  snowstorm,  and  were 
glad  to  see  it  come  thicker  and  thicker,  and  watched 
hopefully  the  long  drift  that  was  piling  itself  up  in 
the  avenue,  and  was  already  higher  than  any  of  their 
heads. 

"Why,  we  shall  be  blocked  up  till  spring!"  cried 
they  with  the  hugest  delight.  "  What  a  pity  that  the 
house  is  too  high  to  be  quite  covered  up!  The  little 
red  house  down  yonder  will  be  buried  up  to  its  eaves." 

"  You  silly  children,  what  do  you  want  of  more 
snow?"  asked  Eustace,  who,  tired  of  some  novel  that 
he  was  skimming  through,  had  strolled  into  the  play- 
room. "It  has  done  mischief  enough  already  by 
spoiling  the  only  skating  that  I  could  hope  for 
through  the  winter.  We  shall  see  nothing  more  of 
the  lake  till  April,  and  this  was  to  have  been  my  first 
day  upon  it!     Don't  you  pity  me,  Primrose?" 

"Oh,  to  be  sure!"  answered  Primrose,  laughing. 
"  But  for  your  comfort  we  will  listen  to  another  of 
your  old  stories,  such  as  you  told  us  under  the  porch 


92  TANGLEWOOD  PLAY- ROOM. 

and  down  in  the  hollow  by  Shadow  Brook.  Perhaps 
I  shall  like  them  better  now,  when  there  is  nothing 
to  do,  than  while  there  were  nuts  to  be  gathered  and 
beautiful  weather  to  enjoy." 

Hereupon,  Periwinkle,  Clover,  Sweet  Fern,  and 
as  many  others  of  the  little  fraternity  and  cousinhood 
as  were  still  at  Tangle  wood  gathered  about  Eustace 
and  earnestly  besought  him  for  a  story.  The  student 
yawned,  stretched  himself,  and  then,  to  the  vast  ad- 
miration of  the  small  people,  skipped  three  times  back 
and  forth  over  the  top  of  a  chair,  in  order,  as  he  ex- 
plained to  them,  to  set  his  wits  in  motion. 

"Well,  well,  children,"  said  he  after  these  prelimi- 
naries, "  since  you  insist,  and  Primrose  has  set  her 
heart  upon  it,  I  will  see  what  can  be  done  for  you. 
And,  that  you  may  know  what  happy  days  there  were 
before  snowstorms  came  into  fashion,  I  will  tell  vou 
a  story  of  the  oldest  of  all  old  times,  when  the  world 
was  as  new  as  Sweet  Fern's  bran-new  humming-top. 
There  was  then  but  one  season  in  the  year,  and  that 
was  the  delightful  summer;  and  but  one  age  for  mor- 
tals, and  that  was  childhood." 

"  I  never  heard  of  that  before,"  said  Primrose. 

"  Of  couse  you  never  did,"  answered  Eustace.  "  It 
shall  be  a  story  of  what  nobody  but  myself  ever 
dreamed  of — a  Paradise  of  Children,  and  how,  by  the 
naughtiness  of  just  such  a  little  imp  as  Primrose 
"^ere,  it  all  came  to  nothing." 


TANGLEWOOD  PLAY- ROOM.  93 

So  Eustace  Bright  sat  down  in  the  chair  which  he 
had  just  been  skipping  over,  took  Cowslip  upon  his 
knee,  ordered  silence  throughout  the  auditory,  and 
began  a  story  about  a  sad,  naughty  child  whose  name 
was  Pandora,  and  about  her  playfellow  Epimetheus. 
You  may  read  it,  word  for  word,  in  the  pages  that 
come  next.  - 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 


Long,  long  ago,  when  this  old  world  was  in  its 
tender  infancy,  there  was  a  child  named  Epimethens, 
who  never  had  either  father  or  mother;  and,  that  he 
might  not  be  lonely,  another  child,  fatherless  and 
motherless  like  himself,  and  was  sent  from  a  far 
country  to  live  with  him  and  be  his  pla3'fellow  and 
helpmate.     Her  name  was  Pandora. 

The  first  thing  that  Pandora  saw  when  she  entered 
the  cottage  where  Epimetheus  dwelt  was  a  great 
box,  and  almost  the  first  question  which  she  put  to 
him  after  crossing  the  threshold  was  this: 

"  Epimetheus,  what  have  you  in  that  box?" 

"My  dear  little  Pandora,"  answered  Epimetheus, 
"  that  is  a  secret,  and  you  must  be  kind  enough  not 
to  ask  any  questions  about  it.  The  box  was  left  here 
to  be  kept  safely,  and  I  do  not  myself  know  what  it 
contains." 

"But  who  gave  it  to  you?"  asked  Pandora,  "and 
where  did  it  come  from?" 

That  is  a  secret  too,"  replied  Epimetheus. 


u  n 


THE  PAKADISE  OF  CHILDREN.  95 

"  How  provoking .'"  exclaimed  Pcindora,  pouting 
her  lip.  "  I  wish  the  great  ugly  box  were  out  of  the 
way!" 

"Oh,  come,  don't  think  of  it  any  more,"  cried  Ep- 
imetheus.  "Let  us  run  out  of  doors  and  have  some 
nice  play  with  the  other  children." 

It  is  thousands  of  years  since  EpimetheUs  and  Pan- 
dora were  alive,  and  the  world  nowadays  is  a  very 
different  sort  of  thing  from  what  it  was  in  their  time. 
Then  everybody  was  a  child.  They  needed  no  fathers 
and  mothers  to  take  care  of  the  children,  because  there 
was  no  danger  nor  trouble  of  any  kind,  and  no  clothes 
to  be  mended,  and  there  was  always  plenty  to  eat  and 
drink.  Whenever  a  child  wanted  his  dinner,  he 
found  it  growing  on  a  tree ;  and  if  he  looked  at  the 
tree  in  the  morning,  he  could  see  the  expanding 
blossom  of  that  night's  supper,  or  at  eventide  he  saw 
the  tender  bud  of  to-morrow's  breakfast.  It  was  a 
very  pleasant  life  indeed.  No  labor  to  be  done,  no 
tasks  to  be  studied — nothing  but  sports  and  dances, 
and  sweet  voices  of  children  talking  or  carolling  like 
birds  or  gushing  out  in  merry  laughter  throughout 
the  livelong  day. 

What  was  most  wonderful  of  all,  the  children  never 
quarrelled  among  themselves,  neither  had  they  any 
crying  fits,  nor,  since  time  first  began,  had  a  single 
one  of  these  little  mortals  ever  gone  apart  into  a 
corner  and  sulked.     Oh,  what  a  good  time  was  that 


96  THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 

to  be  alive  in !  The  truth  is,  those  ugly  little  winged 
monsters  called  Troubles,  which  are  now  almost  as 
numerous  as  mosquitoes,  had  never  yet  been  seen  on 
the  earth.  It  is  probable  that  the  very  greatest  dis- 
quietude which  a  child  had  ever  experienced  was 
Pandora's  vexation  at  not  being  able  to  discover  the 
sceret  of  the  mysterious  box. 

This  was  at  first  only  the  faint  shadow  of  a  Trouble, 
but  every  day  it  grew  more  and  more  substantial, 
until,  before  a  great  while,  the  cottage  of  Epimetheus 
and  Pandora  was  less  sunshiny  than  those  of  the  other 
children. 

*'  Whence  can  the  box  have  come?"  Pandora  contin- 
ually kept  saying  to  herself  and  to  Epimetheus,  "  and 
what  in  the  world  can  be  inside  of  it?" 

"  Always  talking  about  this  box!"  said  Epimetheus 
at  last,  for  he  had  grown  extremely  tired  of  the  sub- 
ject. "  I  wish,  dear  Pandora,  you  would  try  to  talk 
of  something  else.  Come,  let  us  go  and  gather  some 
ripe  figs  and  eat  them  under  the  trees  for  our  supper. 
And  I  know  a  vine  that  has  the  sweetest  and  juiciest 
grapes  you  ever  tasted." 

"Always  talking  about  grapes  and  figs!"  cried 
Pandora,  pettishly. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Epimethens,  who  was  a  very 
good-tempered  child,  like  a  multitude  of  children  in 
those  days,  "let  us  run  out  and  have  a  merry  time 
with  our  playmates." 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN.  97 

*'  I  am  tired  of  merry  times,  and  don't  care  if  I 
never  have  any  more.  This  ugly  box !  I  am  so  taken 
up  with  thinking  about  it  all  the  time!  I  insist 
upon  your  telling  me  what  is  inside  of  it." 

"  As  I  have  already  said  fifty  times  over,  I  do  not 
know,"  replied  Epimetheus,  getting  a  little  vexed. 
"How,  then,  can  I  tell  you  what  is  inside?" 

"You  might  open  it,"  said  Pandora,  looking  side- 
ways at  EpimetheuSj  "  and  then  we  could  see  for  our- 
selves." 

"Pandora,  what  are  you  thinking  of ?"  exclaimed 
Epimetheus. 

And  his  face  expressed  so  much  horror  at  the  idea 
of  looking  into  a  box  which  had  been  confided  to  him 
on  the  condition  of  his  never  opening  it  that  Pandora 
thought  it  best  not  to  suggest  it  any  more.  Still, 
however,  she  could  not  help  thinking  and  talking 
about  the  box. 

"  At  least,"  she  said,  "you  can  tell  me  how  it  came 
here." 

"It  was  left  at   the  door,"   replied    Epimetheus, 

"  just  before  you  came,  by  a  person  who  looked  very 

smiling  and  intelligent,  and  who  could  hardly  forbear 

laughing  as  he  put  it  down.     He  was  dressed  in  an 

odd  kind  of  a  cloak,  and  had  on  a  cap  that  seemed  to 

be  made  partly  of  feathers,  so  that  it  looked  almost 

as  if  it  had  wings." 

"What  sort  of  a  staff  had  he?"  asked  Pandora. 
7 


98  THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 

"Oh,  the  most  curious  staff  you  ever  saw!"  cried 
Epimetheus.  "  It  was  like  two  serpents  twisting 
around  a  stick,  and  was  carved  so  naturally  that  I  at 
first  thought  the  serpents  were  alive." 

"I  know  him,"  said  Pandora,  thoughtfully.  "No- 
body else  has  such  a  staff.  It  was  Quicksilver,  and  he 
brought  me  hither  as  well  as  the  box.  No  doubt  he 
intended  it  for  me,  and  most  probably  it  contains 
pretty  dresses  for  me  to  wear,  or  toys  for  you  and  me 
to  play  with,  or  something  very  nice  for  us  both  to 
eat." 

"Perhaps  so,"  answered  Epimetheus,  turning 
away.  "  But  until  Q,uicksilver  comes  back  and  tells 
us  so,  we  have  either  of  us  any  right  to  lift  the  lid  of 
the  box." 

"What  a  dull  boy  he  is!"  muttered  Pandora  as 
Epimetheus  left  the  cottage.  "  I  do  wish  he  had  a 
little  more  enterprise!" 

For  the  first  time  since  her  arrival,  Epimetheus 
had  gone  out  without  asking  Pandora  to  accompany 
him.  He  went  to  gather  figs  and  grapes  by  himself, 
or  to  seek  whatever  amusement  he  could  find  in  other 
society  than  his  little  playfellow's.  He  was  tired  to 
death  of  hearing  about  the  box,  and  heartily  wished 
that  Quicksilver,  or  whatever  was  the  messenger's 
name,  had  left  it  at  some  other  child's  door,  where 
Pandora  would  never  have  set  eyes  on  it.  So  perse- 
Teringly  as  she  did  babble  doout  this  one  thing!     The 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN.  99 

box,  the  box,  and  nothing  bat  the  box!  It  seemed 
as  if  the  box  were  bewitched,  and  as  if  the  cottage 
were  not  big  enough  to  hold  it  without  Pandora's 
continually  stumbling  over  it,  and  making -Epime- 
theus  stumble  over  it  likewise,  and  bruising  all  four 
of  their  shins. 

Well,  it  was  really  hard  that  poor  Epimetheus 
should  have  a  box  in  his  ears  from  morning  till  night, 
especially  as  the  little,  people  of  the  earth  were  so  un- 
accustomed to  vexations  in  those  happy  days  that 
they  knew  not  how  to  deal  with  them.  Thus  a  small 
vexation  made  as  much  disturbance  then  as  a  far 
bigger  one  would  in  our  own  times. 

After  Epimetheus  was  gone  Pandora  stood  gazing  at 
the  box.  She  had  called  it  ugly  above  a  hundred 
times,  but,  in  spite  of  all  that  she  had  said  against  it, 
it  was  positively  a  very  handsome  article  of  furniture, 
and  would  have  been  quite  an  ornament  to  any  room 
in  which  it  should  be  placed.  It  was  made  of  a  beau- 
tiful kind  of  wood,  with  dark  and  rich  veins  spread- 
ing over  its  surface,  which  was  so  highly  polished 
that  little  Pandora  could  see  her  face  in  it.  As  the 
child  had  no  other  looking-glass,  it  is  odd  that  she 
did  not  value  the  box  merely  on  this  account. 

The  edges  and  corners  of  the  box  were  carved  with 
most  wonderful  skill.  Around  the  margin  there  were 
figures  of  graceful  men  and  women  and  the  prettiest 
children  ever  seen,  reclining  or  sporting  amid  a  pro- 


100  THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 

fusion  of  flowers  and  foliage ;  and  these  various  ob- 
jects were  so  exquisitely  represented  and  were  wrought 
together  in  such  harmony  that  flowers,  foliage,  and 
human  beings  seemed  to  combine  into  a  wreath  of 
mingled  beauty.  But  here  and  there,  peeping  forth 
from  behind  the  carved  foliage.  Pandora  once  or  twice 
fancied  that  she  saw  a  face  not  so  lovely,  or  some- 
thing or  other  that  was  disagreeable,  and  which 
stole  the  beauty  out  of  all  the  rest.  Nevertheless,  on 
looking  more  closely  and  touching  the  spot  with  her 
finger,  she  could  discover  nothing  of  the  kind.  Some 
face  that  was  really  beautiful  had  been  made  to  look 
ugly  by  her  catching  a  sideway  glimpse  at  it. 

The  most  beautiful  face  of  all  was  done  in  what  is 
called  high  relief  in  the  centre  of  the  lid.  There 
was  nothing  else  save  the  dark,  smooth  richness  of 
the  polished  wood,  and  this  one  face  in  the  centre 
with  a  garland  of  flowers  about  his  brow.  Pandora 
had  looked  at  this  face  a  great  many  times,  and  im- 
agined that  the  mouth  could  smile  if  it  liked,  or  be 
grave  when  it  chose,  the  same  as  any  living  mouth. 
The  features,  indeed,  all  wore  a  very  lively  and  rather 
mischievous  expression,  which  looked  almost  as  if 
it  needs  must  burst  out  of  the  carved  lips  and  utter 
itself  in  words. 

Had  the  mouth  spoken,  it  would  probably  have 
been  something  like  this: 

"Po  not  be  afraid,   Pandora!     What  harm  can 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN.  101 

there  be  in  opening  the  box?  Never  mind  that  poor, 
simple  Epimetheus.  You  are  wiser  than  he,  and  have 
ten  times  as  much  spirit.  Open  the  box  and  see  if 
you  do  not  find  something  very  pretty." 

The  box,  I  had  almost  forgotten  to  say,  was  fast- 
ened, not  by  a  lock  nor  by  any  other  such  contrivance, 
but  by  a  very  intricate  knot  of  gold  cord.  There 
appeared  to  be  no  end  to  this  knot,  and  no  beginning. 
Never  was  a  knot  so  cunningly  twisted  nor  with  so 
many  ins  and  outs,  which  roguishly  defied  the  skil- 
fulest  fingers  to  disentangle  them.  And  yet,  by  the 
very  difficulty  that  there  was  in  it.  Pandora  was  the 
more  tempted  to  examine  the  knot  and  just  see  how 
it  was  made.  Two  or  three  times  already  she  had 
stooped  over  the  box  and  taken  the  knot  between 
her  thumb  and  forefinger,  but  without  positively 
trying  to  undo  it. 

*'  I  really  believe,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  that  I  begin 
to  see  how  it  was  done.  Nay,  perhaps  I  could  tie  it 
ap  again  after  undoing  it.  There  would  be  no  harm 
in  that,  surely.  Even  Epimetheus  would  not  blame 
me  for  that.  I  need  not  open  the  box,  and  should 
not,  of  course,  without  the  foolish  boy's  consent,  even 
if  the  knot  were  untied." 

It  might  have  been  better  for  Pandora  if  she  had 
had  a  little  work  to  do,  or  anything  to  employ  her 
mind  upon,  so  as  not  to  be  so  constantly  thinking  of 
this  one  subiect.     But  children  led  so  easy  a  life  be- 


102  THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 

fore  any  Troubles  came  into  the  world  that  they  Ij^^d 
really  a  great  deal  too  much  leisure.  They  could  not 
be  forever  playing  at  hide-and-seek  among  the  flower- 
shrubs,  or  at  blindman's  buff  with  garlands  over 
their  eyes,  or  at  whatever  other  games  had  been  found 
out  while  Mother  Earth  was  in  her  babyhood.  When 
life  is  all  sport,  toil  is  the  real  play.  There  was  ab- 
solutely nothing  to  do.  A  little  sweeping  and  dust- 
ing about  the  cottage,  I  suppose,  and  the  gathering 
of  fresh  flowers  (which  were  only  too  abundant 
everywhere)  and  arranging  them  in  vases — and  poor 
little  Pandora's  day's  v/ork  was  over.  And  then, 
for  the  rest  of  the  day,  there  was  the  box! 

After  all,  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  the  box  was  not 
a  blessing  to  her  iu  its  way.  It  supplied  her  with 
such  a  variety  of  ideas  to  think  of  and  to  talk  about 
whenever  she  had  anybody  to  listen!  AVhen  she  was 
in  good  humor  she  could  admire  the  bright  polish  of 
its  sides  and  the  rich  border  of  beautiful  faces  and 
foliage  that  ran  all  around  it.  Or,  if  she  chanced  to 
be  ill-tempered,  she  could  give  it  a  push  or  kick  it 
with  her  naughty  little  foot.  And  many  a  kick 
did  the  box  (but  it  was  a  mischievous  box,  as  we  shall 
see,  and  deserved  all  it  got) — many  a  kick  did  it  re- 
ceive. But  certain  it  is,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
box  our  active-minded  little  Pandora  would  not  have 
known  half  so  well  how  to  spend  her  time  as  she  now 
did. 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN.  103 

For  it  was  really  an  endless  employment  to  guess 
what  was  inside.  What  could  it  be,  indeed?  Just 
imagine,  my  little  hearers,  how  busy  your  wits  would 
be  if  there  were  a  great  box  in  the  house  which,  as 
you  might  have  reason  to  suppose,  contained  some- 
thing new  and  pretty  for  your  Christmas  or  New- 
Year's  gifts.  Do  you  think  that  you  should  be  less 
curious  than  Pandora?  If  you  were  left  alone  with 
the  box,  might  you  not  feel  a  little  tempted  to  lift 
the  lid?  But  you  would  not  do  it.  Oli,  fie!  No, 
no!  Only,  if  you  thought  there  were  toys  in  it,  it 
would  be  so  very  hard  to  let  slip  an  opportunity  of 
taking  just  one  peep !  I  know  not  whether  Pandora 
expected  any  toys,  for  none  had  yet  begun  to  be  made, 
probably,  in  those  days,  when  the  world  itself  was 
one  great  plaything  for  the  children  that  dwelt  upon 
it.  But  Pandora  was  convinced  that  there  was  some- 
thing very  beautiful  and  valuable  in  the  box,  and 
therefore  she  felt  just  as  anxious  to  take  a  peep  as 
any  of  these  little  girls  here  around  me  would  have 
felt,  and  possibly  a  little  more  so;  but  of  that  I  am 
not  quite  so  certain. 

On  this  particular  day,  however,  which  we  have  so 
long  been  talking  about,  her  curiosity  grew  so  much 
greater  than  it  usually  was  that  at  last  she  approached 
the  box.  She  was  more  than  half-determined  to  open 
it  if  she  could.     Ah,  naughty  Pandora! 

First,  however,  she  tried  to  lift  it.     It  was  heavy -^ 


104  THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 

quite  too  heavy  for  the  slender  strength  of  a  child 
like  Pandora.  She  raised  one  end  of  the  box  a  few 
inches  from  the  floor,  and  let  it  fall  again  with  a 
pretty  loud  thump.  A  moment  afterward  she  almost 
fancied  that  she  heard  something  stir  inside  of  the 
box.  She  applied  her  ear  as  closely  as  possible  and 
listened.  Positively,  there  did  seem  to  be  a  kind  of 
stifled  murmur  within!  Or  was  it  merely  the  sing- 
ing in  Pandora's  ears?  Or  could  it  be  the  beating  of 
her  heart?  The  child  could  not  quite  satisfy  herself 
whether  she  had  heard  anything  or  no.  But,  at  all 
events,  her  curiosity  was  stronger  than  ever. 

As  she  drew  back  her  head  her  eyes  fell  upon  the 
knot  of  gold  cord. 

"  It  must  have  been  a  very  ingenious  person  who 
tied  this  knot,"  said  Pandora  to  herself.  "But  I 
think  I  could  untie  it,  nevertheless.  I  am  resolved, 
at  least,  to  find  the  two  ends  of  the  cord." 

So  she  took  the  golden  knot  in  her  fingers  and  pried 
into  its  intricacies  as  sharply  as  she  could.  Almost 
without  intending  it  or  quite  knowing  what  she 
was  about,  she  was  soon  busily  engaged  in  attempting 
to  undo  it.  Meanwhile  the  bright  sunshine  came 
through  the  open  window,  as  did  likewise  the  merry 
voices  of  the  children  playing  at  a  distance,  and  per- 
haps the  voice  of  Epimetheus  among  them.  Pandora 
stopped  to  listen.  What  a  beautiful  day  it  was! 
Would  it  not  be  wiser  if  she  were  to  let  the  trouble- 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN.  105 

Bome  knot  alone  and  think  no  more  about  the  box,  t 
but  run  and  join  her  little  playfellows  and  be  happy? 

All  this  time,  however,  her  fingers  were  half  un- 
consciously busy  with  the  knot;  and,  happening  to 
glance  at  the  flower-wreathed  face  on  the  lid  of  the 
enchanted  box,  she  seemed  to  perceive  it  slyly  grin- 
ning at  her. 

"That  face  looks  very  mischievous,"  thought  Pan- 
dora. "  I  wonder  whether  it  smiles  because  I  am 
doing  wrong?  I  have  the  greatest  mind  in  the  world 
to  run  away." 

But  just  then,  by  the  merest  accident,  she  gave 
the  knot  a  kind  of  a  twist,  which  produced  a  wonder- 
ful result.  The  gold  cord  untwined  itself  ^s  if  by 
magic,  and  left  the  box  without  a  fastening. 

"This  is  the  strangest  thing  I  ever  knew \"  said 
Pandora.  "What  will  Epimetheus  say?  And  how 
can  I  possibly  tie  it  up  again?" 

She  made  one  or  two  attempts  to  restore  the  knot, 
but  soon  found  it  quite  beyond  her  skill.  It  had 
disentangled  itself  so  suddenly  that  she  could  not  in 
the  least  remember  how  the  strings  had  been  doubled 
into  one  another,  and  when  she  tried  to  recollect  the 
shape  and  appearance  of  the  knot  it  seemed  to  have 
gone  entirely  out  of  her  mind.  Nothing  was  to  be 
done,  therefore,  but  to  let  the  box  remain  as  it  was 
until  Epimetheus  should  come  in. 

"  But,"  said  Pandora,  "  when  he  finds  th3  knot  un- 


106  THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 

tied  he  will  know  that  I  have  done  it.  How  shall  I 
make  him  believe  that  I  have  not  looked  into  the  box?" 

And  then  the  thought  came  into  her  naughty  little 
heart  that,  since  she  would  be  suspected  of  having 
looked  into  the  box,  she  might  just  as  well  do  so  at 
once.  Oh,  very  naughty  and  very  foolish  Pandora! 
You  should  have  thought  only  of  doing  what  was 
right  and  of  leaving  undone  what  was  wrong,  and 
not  of  what  your  playfellow  Epimetheus  would  have 
said  or  believed.  And  so,  perhaps,  she  might  if  the 
enchanted  face  on  the  lid  of  the  box  had  not  looked 
so  bewitchingly  persuasive  at  her,  and  if  she  had  not 
seemed  to  hear,  more  distinctly  than  before,  the 
murmur  of  small  voices  within.  She  could  not  tell 
whether  it  was  fancy  or  no,  but  there  was  quite  a  lit- 
tle tumult  of  whispers  in  her  ear,  or  else  it  was  her 
curiosity  that  whispered: 

"  Let  us  out,  dear  Pandora — pray  let  us  out!  We 
will  be  such  nice,  pretty  playfellows  for  you !  Only 
let  us  out!" 

"What  can  it  be?"  thought  Pandora.  "  Is  there 
something  alive  in  the  box?  Well! — yes! — I  am  re- 
solved to  take  just  one  peep!  Only  one  peep,  and 
then  the  lid  shall  be  shut  down  as  safely  as  ever. 
There  cannot  possibly  be  any  harm  in  just  one  little 
peep." 

But  it  is  now  time  for  us  to  see  what  Epimetheus 
was  doing. 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN.  107 

This  was  the  first  time  since  iiis  little  plaj^mate  had 
come  to  dwell  witti  him  that  he  had  attempted  to 
enjoy  any  pleasure  in  which  she  did  not  partake. 
But  nothing  went  right,  nor  was  he  nearly  so  happy 
as  on  other  days.  He  could  not  find  a  sweet  grape 
or  a  ripe  fig  (if  Epimetheus  had  a  fault,  it  was  a  little 
too  much  fondness  for  figs),  or,  if  ripe  at  all,  they 
were  over-ripe  and  so  sweet  as  to  be  cloying.  There 
was  no  mirth  in  his  heart,  such  as  usually  made  his 
voice  gush  out  of  its  own  accord  and  swell  the  merri- 
ment of  his  companions.  In  short,  he  grew  so  uneasy 
and  discontented  that  the  other  children  could  not 
imagine  what  was  the  matter  with  Epimetheus. 
Neither  did  he  himself  know  what  ailed  him  any 
better  than  they  did.  For  yon  must  recollect  that  at 
the  time  we  are  speaking  "of  it  was  everybody's  nature 
and  constant  habit  to  be  happy.  The  world  had  not 
yet  learned  to  be  otherwise.  Not  a  single  soul  or 
body,  since  these  children  were  first  sent  to  enjoy 
themselves  on  the  beautiful  earth,  had  ever  been  sick 
or  out  of  sorts. 

At  length,  discovering  that  somehow  or  other  he 
put  a  stop  to  all  the  play,  Epimetheus  judged  it  best 
to  go  back  to  Pandora,  who  was  in  a  humor  better 
suited  to  his  own.  But,  with  a  hope  of  giving  her 
pleasure,  he  gathered  some  flowers  and  made  them 
into  a  wreath  which  he  meant  to  put  upon  her  head. 
The  flowers  were  very  lovely — roses  and  lilies  and 


108  THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 

orange-blossoms  and  a  great  many  more,  which  left  a 
trail  of  fragrance  behind  as  Epimetheus  carried  them 
along ;  and  the  wreath  was  put  together  with  as  much 
skill  as  could  reasonably  be  exj^ected  of  a  boy.  The 
fingers  of  little  girls,  it  has  always  appeared  to  me, 
are  the  fittest  to  twine  flower-wreaths;  but  boys  could 
do  it  in  those  days  rather  better  than  they  can  now. 

And  here  I  must  mention  that  a  great  black  cloud 
had  been  gathering  in  the  sky  for  some  time  past, 
although  it  had  not  yet  overspread  the  sun.  But 
just  as  Epimetheus  reached  the  cottage  door  this  cloud 
began  to  intercept  the  sunshine  and  thus  to  make  a 
sudden  and  sad  obscurity. 

He  entered  softly,  for  he  meant,  if  possible,  to 
steal  behind  Pandora  and  fling  the  wreath  of  flowers 
over  her  head  before  she  should  be  aware  of  his  ap- 
proach. But,  as  it  happened,  there  was  no  need  of 
his  treading  so  very  lightly.  He  might  have  trod  as 
heavily  as  he  pleased — as  heavily  as  a  grown  man — as 
heavily,  I  was  going  to  say,  as  an  elephant — without 
much  probability  of  Pandora  hearing  his  footsteps. 
She  was  too  intent  upon  her  purpose.  At  the  mo- 
ment of  his  entering  the  cottage  the  naughty  child 
had  put  her  hand  to  the  lid  and  was  on  the  point  of 
opening  the  mysterious  box.  Epimetheus  beheld  her. 
If  he  had  cried  out.  Pandora  would  probably  have 
withdrawn  her  hand,  and  the  fatal  mystery  of  the  bo:J 
might  never  have  been  known. 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN.  .  109 

But  Epimethens  himself,  although  he  said  very 
little  about  it,  had  his  own  share  of  curiosity  to  know 
what  was  inside.  Perceiving  that  Pandora  was  re- 
solved to  find  out  the  secret,  he  determined  that  his 
playfellow  should  not  be  the  only  wise  person  in  the 
cottage.  And  if  there  were  anything  pretty  or  valu- 
able in  the  box,  he  meant  to  take  half  of  it  to  himself. 
Thus,  after  all  his  sage  speeches  to  Pandora  about  re- 
straining her  curiosity,  Epimetheus  turned  out  to  be 
quite  as  foolish,  and  nearly  as  much  in  fault,  as  she. 
So,  whenever  we  blame  Pandora  for  what  happened, 
we  must  not  forget  to  shake  our  heads  at  Epimetheus 
likewise. 

As  Pandora  raised  the  lid  the  cottage  grew  very 
dark  and  dismal,  for  the  black  cloud  had  now  swept 
quite  over  the  sun  and  seemed  to  have  buried  it  alive. 
There  had,  for  a  little  while  past,  been  a  low  growling 
and  muttering,  which  all  at  once  broke  into  a  heavy 
peal  of  thunder.  But  Pandora,  heeding  nothing  of 
all  this,  lifted  the  lid  nearly  upright  and  looked  in- 
side. It  seemed  as  if  a  sudden  swarm  of  winged 
creatures  brushed  past  her,  taking  flight  out  of  the 
box,  while  at  the  same  instant  she  heard  the  voice  of 
Epimetheus  with  a  lamentable  tone,  as  if  he  were  in 
pain. 

"Oh,  I  am  stung!"  cried  he.  "I  am  stung! 
Naughty  Pandora,  why  have  you  opeoed  this  wicker 
box?" 


no      THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 

Pandora  let  fall  the  lid,  and,  starting  up,  looked 
about  her  to  see  what  had  befallen  Epimetheus.  The 
thunder-cloud  had  so  darkened  the  room  that  she 
could  not  very  clearly  discern  what  was  in  it.  But 
she  heard  a  disagreeable  buzzing,  as  if  a  great  many 
huge  flies  or  gigantic  mosquitoes,  or  those  insects 
which  we  call  dor-bugs  and  pinching-dogs,were  dart- 
ing about.  And  as  her  eyes  grew  more  accustomed  to 
the  imperfect  light  she  saw  a  crowd  of  ugly  little 
shapes  with  bats'  wings,  looking  abominably  spiteful, 
and  armed  with  terribly  long  stings  in  their  tails.  It 
was  one  of  these  that  had  stung  Epimetheus.  Xor 
was  it  a  great  while  before  Pandora  herself  began  to 
scream  in  no  less  pain  and  affright  than  her  playfel- 
low, and  making  a  vast  deal  more  hubbub  about  it. 
An  odious  little  monster  had  settled  on  her  forehead, 
and  would  have  stung  her  I  know  not  how  deeply  if 
Epimetheus  had  not  run  and  brushed  it  away. 

Now,  if  you  wish  to  know  what  these  ugly  things 
might  be  which  had  made  their  escape  out  of  the 
box,  I  must  tell  you  that  they  were  the  whole  family 
of  earthlv  Troubles.  There  were  evil  Passions;  there 
were  a  great  many  species  of  Cares;  there  were  more 
than  a  hundred  and  fifty  Sorrows;  there  were  Diseases 
in  a  vast  number  of  miserable  and  painful  shapes; 
there  were  more  kinds  of  Naughtiness  than  it  would 
be  of  any  use  to  talk  about.  In  short,  everything 
tiiat  has  since  afflicted  the  souls  and  bodies  of  mankind 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN.  Ill 

had  been  shut  np  in  the  mysterious  box  and  given  to 
Epimetheus  and  Pandora  to  be  kept  safely,  in  order 
that  the  happy  children  of  the  world  might  never  be 
molested  by  them.  Had  they  been  faithful  to  their 
trust,  all  would  have  gone  well.  No  grown  person 
would  ever  have  been  sad,  nor  any  child  have  hsid 
cause  to  shed  a  single  tear  from  that  hour  until  this 
moment. 

But — and  you  may  see  by  this  how  a  wrong  act  of 
any  one  mortal  is  a  calamity  to  the  whole  world — by 
Pandora's  lifting  the  lid  of  that  miserable  box,  and 
by  the  fault  of  Epimetheus,  too,  in  not  preventing 
her,  these  Troubles  have  obtained  a  foothold  among 
us,  and  do  not  seem  very  likely  to  be  driven  away  in 
a  hurry.  For  it  was  impossible,  as  you  will  easily 
guess,  that  the  two  children  should  keep  the  ugly 
swarm  in  their  own  little  cottage.  On  the  contrary, 
the  first  thing  that  they  did  was  to  fling  open  the 
doors  and  windows  in  hopes  of  getting  rid  of  them ; 
and,  sure  enough,  away  flew  the  winged  Troubles  all 
abroad,  and  so  pestered  and  tormented  the  small 
people  everywhere  about  that  none  of  them  so  much 
as  smiled  for  many  days  afterward.  And,  what  was 
very  singular,  all  the  flowers  and  dewy  blossoms  on 
earth,  not  one  of  which  had  hitherto  faded,  now 
began  to  droop  and  shed  their  leaves  after  a  day  or 
two.  The  ch^^dren,  moreover,  who  before  seemed 
immortal  in  th®^^  childhood,  now  grew  older  day  bj 


112  THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 

> 

day,  and  came  soon  to  be  youths  and  maidens,  and 
men  and  women  by  and  by,  and  aged  people  before 
they  dreamed  of  such  a  thing. 

Meanwhile  the  naughty  Pandora  and  hardly  less 
naughty  Epimetheus  remained  in  their  cottage. 
Both  of  them  had  been  grievously  stung,  and  were  in 
a  good  deal  of  pain,  which  seemed  the  more  intoler- 
able to  them  because  it  was  the  very  first  pain  that 
had  ever  been  felt  since  the  world  began.  Of  course 
they  were  entirely  unaccustomed  to  it,  and  could  have 
no  idea  what  it  meant.  Besides  all  this,  they  were 
in  exceedingly  bad  humor  both  with  themselves  and 
with  one  another.  In  order  to  indulge  it  to  the  ut- 
most, Epimetheus  sat  down  sullenly  in  a  corner  with 
his  back  toward  Pandora,  while  Pandora  flung  her- 
self upon  the  floor  and  rested  her  head  on  the  fatal 
and  abominable  box.  She  was  crying  bitterly  and 
sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  gentle  little  tap  on  the  inside 
of  the  lid. 

"What  can  that  be?"  cried  Pandora,  lifting  her 
head. 

But  either  Epimetheus  had  not  heard  the  tap  or 
was  too  much  out  of  humor  to  notice  it.  At  any 
rate,  he  made  no  answer. 

"You  are  very  unkind,"  said  Pandora,  sobbing 
anew,  "not  to  speak  to  me." 

Again  the  tap !     It  sounded  like  ^^^'^  tiny  knuckles 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN:.  113 

of  a  fairy's  hand  knocking  lightly  and  playfully  on 
the  inside  of  the  box. 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  Pandora,  with  a  little  of 
her  former  curiosity.  "  Who  are  you,  inside  of  this 
naughty  box?" 

A  sweet  little  voice  spoke  from  within : 

"  Only  lift  the  lid  and  you  shall  see." 

"  No,  no !"  answered  Pandora,  again  beginning  to 
sob ;  '*  I  have  had  enough  of  lifting  the  lid !  You 
are  inside  of  the  box,  naughty  creature,  and  there 
you  shall  stay!  There  are  plenty  of  your  ugly 
brothers  and  sisters  already  flying  about  the  world. 
You  need  never  think  that  I  shall  be  so  foolish  as  to 
Jet  you  out." 

She  looked  toward  Epimetheus  as  she  spoke,  per- 
haps expecting  that  he  would  commend  her  for  her 
wisdom.  But  the  sullen  boy  only  muttered  that  she 
Was  wise  a  little  too  late. 

"Ah,"  said  the  sweet  little  voice  again,  "you  had 
much  better  let  me  out.  I  am  not  like  those  naughty 
creatures  that  have  stino^s  in  their  tails.  Thev  are 
no  brothers  and  sisters  of  mine,  as  you  would  see  at 
once  if  you  were  only  to  get  a  glimpse  of  me.  Come, 
come,  my  pretty  Pandora!  I  am  sure  you  will  let  me 
out!" 

And,  indeed,  there  was  a  kind  of  cheerful  witcherj 
in  the  tone  that  made  it  almost  impossible  to  refuse 
anytliing  which  this  little  voice  asked.  Pandora's 
8 


114  THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 

heart  had  insensibly  grown  lighter  at  every  woru  that 
came  from  within  the  box.  Epimetheus  too,  though 
still  in  a  corner,  had  turned  half  round,  and  seemed 
to  be  in  rather  better  spirits  than  before. 

"My  dear  Epimetheus,"  cried  Pandora,  "have  you 
heard  this  little  voice?" 

"Yes,  to  be  sure  I  have,"  answered  he,  but  in  no 
very  good  humor  as  yet,     "And  what  of  it?" 

^  Shall  I  lift  the  lid  again?"  asked  Pandora. 

"Just  as  you  please,"  said  Epimetheus.  "  You  have 
done  so  much  mischief  already  that  perhaps  you  may 
as  well  do  a  little  more.  One  other  Trouble,  in  such 
a  swarm  as  you  have  set  adrift  about  the  world,  can 
make  no  very  great  difference." 

"You  might  speak  a  little  more  kindly,"  mur- 
mured Pandora,  wiping  her  eyes. 

"Ah,  naughty  boy!"  cried  the  little  voice  within 
the  box  in  an  arch  and  laughing  tone.  "  He  knowis 
he  is  longing  to  see  me.  Come,  my  dear  Pandora, 
lift  up  the  lid.  I  am  in  a  great  hurry  to  comfort 
yon.  Only  let  me  have  some  fresh  air,  and  you  shall 
soon  see  that  matters  are  not  quite  so  dismal  as  you 
think  them." 

"Epimetheus,"  exclaimed  Pandora,  "come  what 
may,  I  am  resolved  to  open  the  box." 

"And,  as  the  lid  seems  very  heavy,"  cried  Epime- 
theus, running  across  the  room,  "I  will  help  you." 

So,  with  one  consent,  the  two  children  again  lifted 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN.  115 

fciie  lid.  Out  flew  a  sunny  and  smiling  little  person- 
age, and  hovered  about  the  room,  throwing  a  light 
wherever  she  went.  Have  you  never  made  the  sun- 
shine dance  into  dark  corners  by  reflecting  it  from  a 
bit  of  looking-glass?  Well,  so  looked  the  winged 
cheerfulness  of  thisfairy-likestranger  amid  the  gloom 
of  the  cottage.  She  flew  to  Epimetheus  and  laid  the 
least  touch  of  her  finger  on  the  inflamed  spot  where 
the  Trouble  had  stung  him,  and  immediately  the 
anguish  of  it  was  gone.  Then  she  kissed  Pandora  on 
the  forehead,  and  her  hurt  was  cured  likewise. 

After  performing  these  good  offices  the  bright 
stranger  fluttered  sportively  over  the  children's  heads, 
and  looked  so  sweetly  at  them  that  they  both  began 
to  think  it  not  so  very  much  amiss  to  have  opened 
their  box,  since  otherwise  their  cheery  guest  must 
have  been  kept  a  prisoner  among  those  naughty  imps 
with  stings  in  their  tails. 

"Pray  who  are  you,  beautiful  creature?"  inquired 
Pandora. 

"I  am  to  be  called  Hope,"  answered  the  sunshiny 
figure.  *'  And  because  I  am  such  a  cheery  little  body 
I  was  packed  into  the  box  to  make  amends  to  the 
human  race  for  that  swarm  of  ugly  Troubles  which 
was  destined  to  be  let  loose  among  them.  Never 
fear,  we  shall  do  pretty  well  in  spite  of  them  all." 

"Your  wings  are  colored  like  the  rainbow!"  ex« 
claimed  Pandora.     "How  very  beautiful!" 


116  TEE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREJW 

*' Yes,  they  are  like  the  rainbow,"  aaid  Hope,  "  be- 
cause, glad  as  my  nature  is,  I  am  partly  made  of 
tears  as  well  as  smiles." 

"And  will  you  stay  with  us,"  asked  Epiraetheus, 
"for  ever  and  ever?" 

"As  long  as  you  need  me,"  said  Hope,  with  her 
pleasant  smile,  "and  that  will  be  as  long  as  you  live 
in  the  world.  I  promise  never  to  desert  you.  There 
may  come  times  and  seasons,  now  and  then,  when  you 
think  that  I  have  utterly  vanished.  But  again  and 
again  and  again,  when  perhaps  you  least  dream  of  it, 
you  shall  see  the  glimmer  of  my  wings  on  the  ceiling 
of  your  cottage.  Yes,  my  dear  children,  and  I  know 
something  very  good  and  beautiful  that  is  to  be 
given  to  you  hereafter." 

"  Oh,  tell  us!"  they  exclaimed;  "tell  us  what  it  is!" 

"  Do  not  ask  me,"  replied  Hope,  putting  her  finger 
on  her  rosy  mouth.  "  But  do  not  despair,  even  if  it 
should  never  happen  while  you  live  on  this  earth. 
Trust  in  my  promise,  for  it  is  true." 

"  We  do  trust  you !"  cried  Epimetheus  and  Pan- 
dora, both  in  one  breath. 

And  so  they  did;  and  not  only  they,  but  so  has 
everybody  trusted  Hope  that  has  since  been  alive. 
And,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  cannot  help  being  glad 
(though,  to  be  sure,  it  was  an  uncommonly  naughty 
thing  for  her  to  do), — but  I  cannot  help  being  glad 
th£kt  our  foolish  Pandora  peeped  into  the  box.     No 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN.  117 

doubt — no  doubt — the  Troubles  are  still  flying  about 
the  world,  and  have  increased  in  multitude  ratbet 
than  lessened,  and  are  a  very  ugly  set  of  imps,  and 
carry  most  venomous  stings  in  their  tails.  I  have 
felt  them  already,  and  expect  to  feel  them  more  as  I 
grow  older.  But  then  that  lovely  and  lightsome 
little  figure  of  Hope !  What  in  the  world  could  we 
do  without  her?  Hope  spiritualizes  the  earth;  Hope 
makes  it  always  new;  and  even  in  the  earth's  best 
and  brightest  aspect  Hope  shows  it  to  be  only  the 
shadow  of  an  infinite  bliss  hereafter  I 


TANGLEWOOD  PLAY-ROOM, 

AFTER  THE  STORY. 


**  Primrose,"  asked  Eustace,  pinching  her  ear, 
""how  do  you  like  my  little  Pandora?  Don't  you 
think  her  the  exact  picture  of  yourself?  But  you 
would  not  have  hesitated  half  so  long  about  opening 
the  box." 

"  Then  I  should  have  been  well  punished  for  my 
naughtiness,"  retorted  Primrose,  smartly,  "for  the 
first  thing  to  pop  out  after  the  lid  was  lifted  would 
have  been  Mr.  Eustace  Bright  in  the  shape  of  a 
Trouble." 

"Cousin  Eustace,"  said  Sweet  Fern,  "did  the  box 
hold  all  the  trouble  that  has  ever  come  into  the 
world?" 

"Every  mite  of  it!"  answered  Eustace.  "This 
very  snowstorm  which  has  spoiled  my  skating,  was 
packed  up  there." 

"And  how  big  was  the  box?"  asked  Sweet  Fern. 

"  Why,  perhaps  three  feet  long,"  said  Eustace, 
**two  feet  wide,  and  two  feet  and  a  half  high." 


TANGLEWOQD  PLAY- ROOM.  119 

**  Ah,"  said  the  child,  "you  are  making  fun  of  me, 
Cousin  Eustace !  I  know  there  is  not  trouble  enough 
ivi  the  world  to  fill  such  a  great  box  as  that.  As  for 
the  snowstorm,  it  is  no  trouble  at  all,  but  a  pleas- 
ure, so  it  could  not  have  been  in  the  box." 

"  Hear  the  child !"  cried  Primrose,  with  an  a^.r  of 
superiority.  "  How  little  he  knows  about  the  trou- 
bles of  this  world !  Poor  fellow  I  He  will  be  wiser 
when  he  has  seen  as  much  of  life  as  I  have." 

So  saying,  she  began  to  skip  the  rope. 

Meantime  the  day  was  drawing  toward  its  close. 
Out  of  doors  the  scene  certainly  looked  dreary. 
There  was  a  gray  drift  far  and  wide  through  the  gath- 
ering twilight,  the  earth  was  as  pathless  as  the  air, 
and  the  bank  of  snow  over  the  steps  of  the  porch 
proved  that  nobody  had  entered  or  gone  out  for  a 
good  many  hours  past.  Had  there  been  only  one 
child  at  the  window  of  Tanglewood  gazing  at  this 
wintry  prospect,  it  would  perhaps  have  made  him 
sad.  But  half  a  dozen  children  together,  though 
they  cannot  quite  turn  the  world  into  a  paradise, 
may  defy  old  Winter  and  all  his  storms  to  put  them 
cat  of  spirits.  Eustace  Bright,  moreover,  on  th€ 
spur  of  the  moment  invented  several  new  kinds  oi 
play,  which  kept  them  all  in  a  roar  of  merriment 
till  bedtime,  and  served  for  the  next  stormy  daj 
besides. 


TANGLEWOOD  FIRESIDE. 

INTEODUCTOEY  TO  "  THE  THEEE  GOLDEN 

APPLES." 


The  snowstorm  lasted  another  day,  but  what  be- 
came of  it  afterward  I  cannot  possibly  imagine.  At 
any  rate,  it  entirely  cleared  away  during  the  night, 
and  when  the  sun  arose  the  next  morning  it  shone 
brightly  down  on  as  bleak  a  tract  of  hill-coiintry  here 
in  Berkshire  as  could  be  seen  anywhere  in  the  world. 
The  frostwork  had  so  covered  the  window-panes 
that  it  was  hardly  possible  to  get  a  glimpse  at  the 
scenery  outside.  But  while  waiting  for  breakfast  the 
small  populace  of  Tanglewood  had  scratched  peep- 
holes with  their  finger-nails,  and  saw  with  vast  de- 
light that — unless  it  were  one  or  two  bare  patches  on 
a  precipitous  hillside  or  the  gray  effect  of  the  snow 
intermingled  with  the  black  pine  forest — all  nature 
■f^s  as  white  as  a  sheet.  How  exceedingly  pleasant! 
And,  to  make  it  all  the  better,  it  was  cold  enough  to 
nip  one's  nose  short  off!     If  people  have  but  life 


122  TAXGLEWOOD  FIRESIDE. 

enough  in  them  to  bear  it,  there  is  nothing  that  SJO 
raises  the  spirits  and  makes  the  blood  ripple  and 
dance  so  nimbly,  like  a  brook  down  the  slope  of  a 
hill,  as  a  bright,  hard  frost. 

No  sooner  was  breakfast  over  than  the  whole  party, 
well  muffled  in  furs  and  woollens,  floundered  forth  into 
the  midst  of  the  snow.  Well,  what  a  day  of  frosty 
sport  was  this!  They  slid  down  hill  into  the  valley  a 
hundred  times,  nobody  knows  how  far;  and,  to  make 
it  all  the  merrier,  upsetting  their  sledges  and  tum- 
bling head  over  heels  quite  as  often  as  they  came  safely 
to  the  bottom.  And  once  Eustace  Bright  took  Peri- 
winkle, Sweet  Fern,  and  Squash-blossom  on  the  sledge 
with  him,  by  way  of  insuring  a  safe  passage,  and 
down  they  went  at  full  speed  But,  behold!  half-way 
down,  the  sledge  hit  against  a  hidden  stump  and 
flung  all  four  of  its  passengers  into  a  heap,  and  on 
gathering  themselves  up  there  was  no  little  Squaslii- 
blossom  to  be  found!  Why,  what  could  have  become 
of  the  child?  And  while  they  were  wondering  and 
staring  about,  up  started  Squash-blossom  out  of  a 
snow-bank  with  the  reddest  face  you  ever  saw,  and 
looking  as  if  a  large  scarlet  flower  had  suddenly 
sprouted  up  in  midwinter.  Then  there  was  a  gre^tt 
langh. 

A\'hen  they  had  grown  tired  of  sliding  down  hill, 
Eustace  set  the  children  to  digging  a  cave  in  the  bijf- 
gest  snow-drift  that  they  could    find.     Unluckily, 


TANGLEWOOD  FIRESIDE.  12S 

just  as  it  was  completed  and  the  party  had  squeezed 
themselves  into  the  hollow,  down  came  the  roof  upon 
their  heads  and  buried  every  soul  of  them  alive! 
The  next  moment  up  popped  all  their  little  heads  out 
of  the  ruins,  and  the  tall  student's  head  in  the  midst 
of  them,  looking  hoary  and  venerable  with  the  snow- 
dust  that  had  got  among  his  brown  curls.  And 
then,  to  punish  Cousin  Eustace  for  advising  them  to 
dig  such  a  tumble-down  cavern,  the  children  at- 
tacked him  in  a  body,  and  so  bepelted  him  with 
snowballs  that  he  was  fain  to  take  to  his  heels. 

So  he  ran  away  and  went  into  the  woods,  and 
thence  to  the  margin  of  Shadow  Brook,  where  he 
could  hear  the  streamlet  grumbling  along  under 
great  overhanging  banks  of  snow  and  ice  which  would 
scarcely  let  it  see  the  light  of  day.  There  were 
adamantine  icicles  glittering  around  all  its  light  cas- 
cades. Thence  he  strolled  to  the  shore  of  the  lake, 
and  beheld  a  white  untrodden  plain  before  him, 
etretching  from  his  own  feet  to  the  foot  of  Monu- 
ment Mountain.  And  it  being  now  almost  sunset, 
Eustace  thought  that  he  had  never  beheld  any- 
thing so  fresh  and  beautiful  as  the  scene.  He  was 
glad  that  the  children  were  not  with  him,  for  their 
li/ely  spirits  and  tumble-about  activity  would  quite 
have  chased  away  his  higher  and  graver  mood,  so 
that  he  would  merely  have  been  merry  (as  he  had 
already  ^3en  the  who3'^  '^*'.y  long),   and   would  not 


124  TANGLEWOOD  FIRESIDE. 

have  known  ihv  "*trveliness  of  the  winter  sunset  among 
the  hills. 

When  the  sun  was  ^'^Ivlj  down,  our  friend  Eustace 
went  home  to  eat  his  supper.  After  the  meal  was 
over  he  betook  himself  to  the  stud}^  with  a  purpose, 
I  rather  imagine,  to  write  an  ode,  or  two  or  three 
sonnets  or  verses  of  some  kind  or  other,  in  praise  of 
the  purple  and  golden  clouds  which  he  had  seen 
around  the  setting  sun.  But  before  he  had  ham- 
mered out  the  very  first  rhyme,  the  door  opened  and 
Primrose  and  Periwinkle  made  their  appearance. 

'*  Go  away,  children,  I  can't  be  troubled  with  you 
now!"  cried  the  student,  looking  over  his  shoulder, 
witn  the  pen  between  his  fingers.  "  What  in  the  world 
do  you  want  here?     I  thought  you  were  all  in  bed." 

*'  Hear  him.  Periwinkle,  trying  to  talk  like  a  grown 
man!"  said  Primrose.  "And  he  seems  to  forget  that 
I  am  now  thirteen  years  old,  and  may  sit  up  almost 
as  late  as  I  please.  But,  Cousin  Eustace,  you  must 
put  off  your  airs  and  come  with  us  to  the  drawing- 
room.  The  children  have  talked  so  much  about  your 
stories  that  my  father  wishes  to  hear  one  of  them,  in 
order  to  judge  whether  they  are  likely  to  do  any  mis 
chief." 

"  Poh,  poh.  Primrose!"  exclaimed  the  student, 
rather  vexed.  "I  don't  believe  I  can  tell  one  of  my 
stories  in  the  presence  of  grown  people.  Besides, 
your  father  is  a  classical  scholar;  not  that  I  am  much 


TANGLEWOOD  FIRESIDE.  125 

afraid  of  his  scholarship,  either,  for  I  doubt  not  it 
is  as  rusty  as  an  old  caseknife  by  this  time.  But 
then  he  will  be  sure  to  quarrel  with  the  admirable 
nonsense  that  I  put  in  these  stories  out  of  my  own 
head,  and  which  makes  the  great  cliarm  of  the  mat- 
ter for  children  like  yourself.  No  man  of  fifty  who 
has  read  the  classical  myths  in  his  youth  can  possibly  ^ 
understand  my  merits  as  a  reinventor  and  improvei' 
of  them." 

"All  this  may  be  very  true,"  said  Primrose,  "  but 
come  you  must.  My  father  will  not  open  his  book 
nor  will  mamma  open  the  piano  until  you  have  given 
us  some  of  your  nonsense,  as  you  very  correctly  call 
it.     So  be  a  good  boy  and  come  along." 

Whatever  he  might  pretend,  the  student  was  rather 
glad  than  otherwise,  on  second  thought,  to  catch  at 
the  opportunity  of  proving  to  Mr.  Pringle  what  an 
excellent  faculty  he  had  in  modernizing  the  myths  of 
ancient  times.  Until  twenty  years  of  age  a  young 
man  may,  indeed,  be  rather  bashful  about  showing 
his  poetry  and  his  prose,  but,  for  all  that,  he  is  pretty 
apt  to  think  that  these  very  productions  would  place 
him  at  the  tip-top  of  literature,  if  once  they  could 
^  known.  Accordingly,  without  much  more  resist- 
ance, Eustace  suffered  Primrose  and  Periwinkle  to 
drag  him  into  the  drawing-room. 

It  was  a  large,  handsome  apartment  with  a  semi- 
circular  window  at  one  end,  in  the  recess  of  which 


126  TANGLEWOOD  FIRESIDE. 

stood  a  marble  copy  of  Greenough's  Angel  and  Child. 
On  one  side  of  the  fireplace  there  were  many  shelves 
of  books  gravely  but  richly  bound.  The  white  light 
of  the  astral  lamp  and  the  red  glow  of  the  bright 
coal-fire  made  the  room  brilliant  and  cheerful,  and 
before  the  fire,  in  a  deep  armchair,  sat  Mr.  Pringle, 
looking  just  fit  to  be  seated  in  such  a  chair  and  in 
such  a  room.  He  was  a  tall  and  quite  a  handsome 
gentleman,  with  a  bald  brow,  and  was  always  so  nicely 
dressed  that  eveij  Eustace  Bright  never  liked  to  enter 
his  presence  without  at  least  pausing  at  the  thresh- 
hold  to  settle  his  shirt-collar.  But  now,  as  Primrose 
had  hold  of  one  of  his  hands  and  Periwinkle  of  the 
other,  he  was  forced  to  make  his  appearance  with  a 
rough-and-tumble  sort  of  look,  as  if  he  had  been  roll- 
ing all  day  in  a  snow-bank.     And  so  he  had. 

Mr.  Pringle  turned  toward  the  student  benignly 
enough,  but  in  a  way  that  made  him  feel  how  un- 
combed and  unbrushed  he  was,  and  how  uncombed 
ttnd  unbrushed,  likewise,  were  his  mind  and  thoughts. 

"Eustace,"  said  Mr.  Pringle,  with  a  smile,  "I  find 
that  you  are  producing  a  great  sensation  among  the 
little  public  of  Tanglewood  by  the  exercise  of  your 
gifts  of  narrative.  Primrose  here,  as  the  little  folks 
choose  to  call  her,  and  the  rest  of  the  children  have 
been  so  loud  in  praise  of  your  stories  that  Mrs.  Prin- 
gle and  myself  are  really  curious  to  hear  a  specimen. 
It  would  be  so  much  more  gratifying  to  myself,  as 


TANGLEWOOD  FIRESIDE.  127 

the  stories  appear  to  be  an  attempt  to  render  the 
fables  of  classical  antiquity  into  the  idiom  of  mod- 
ern fancy  and  feeling.  At  least,  so  I  jndge  from  a 
few  of  the  incidents  which  have  come  to  me  at  second- 
hand." 

"  You  are  not  exactly  the  auditor  that  I  should 
have  chosen,  sir,"  observed  the  student,  "  for  fantasies 
of  this  nature." 

"Possibly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Pringle.  "  I  suspect, 
however,  that  a  young  author's  most  useful  critic  is 
precisely  the  one  whom  he  would  be  least  apt  to 
choose.     Pray  oblige  me,  therefore." 

"  Sympathy,  methinks,  should  have  some  little 
share  in  the  critic's  qualifications,"  murmured  Eus- 
tace Bright.  "  However,  sir,  if  you  will  find  pa- 
tience I  will  find  stories.  But  be  kind  enough  to 
remember  that  I  am  addressing  myself  to  the  imag- 
ination and  sympathies  of  the  children,  not  to  your 
own." 

Accordingly,  the  student  snatched  hold  of  the  first 
theme  which  presented  itself.  It  was  suggested  by  a 
plate  of  apples  that  he  happened  to  spy  on  the  man* 
telpiece. 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES. 


Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  golden  apples  that  grew 
in  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides?  Ah,  those  were 
such  apples  as  would  bring  a  great  price  by  the  bushel 
if  any  of  them  could  be  found  growing  in  the  or- 
chards of  nowadays!  But  there  is  not,  I  suppose,  a 
graft  of  that  wonderful  fruit  on  a  single  tree  in  the 
wide  world.  Not  so  much  as  a  seed  of  these  apples 
exists  any  longer.  , 

And,  even  in  the  old,  old,  half-forgotten  times,  be- 
fore the  garden  of  the  Hesperides  was  overrun  with 
weeds,  a  great  many  people  doubted  whether  there 
could  be  real  trees  that  bore  apples  of  solid  gold  upon 
their  branches.  All  had  heard  of  them,  but  nobody 
remembered  to  have  seen  any.  Children,  neverthe- 
less, used  to  listen  openmouthed  to  stories  of  the 
golden  apple-tree,  and  resolved  to  discover  it  when 
they  should  be  big  enough.  Adventurous  young  men 
who  desired  to  do  a  braver  thing  than  any  of  their 
fellows  set  out  in  quest  of  this  fruit.  Many  of  them 
returned  no  more:    none  of  them  brought  back  the 


THE  THB.ee  golden  APPLES.  129 

apples.  No  wonder  that  they  found  it  impossihls  to 
gather  them !  It  is  said  that  there  was  a  dragon  be- 
tieath  the  tree  with  a  hundred  terrible  heads,  fifty  of 
which  were  always  on  the  watch  while  the  other  fifty 
slent. 

In  my  opinion,  it  was  hardly  worth  running  st 
much  risk  for  the  sake  of  a  solid  golden  apple.  Had 
the  apples  been  sweet,  mellow,  and  juicy,  indeed,  that 
would  be  another  matter.  There  might  then  have 
been  some  sense  in  trying  to  get  at  them,  in  spite  of 
the  hundred-headed  dragon. 

But,  as  I  have  already  told  you,  it  was  quite  a  com- 
mon thing  with  young  persons,  when  tired  of  too 
much  peace  and  rest,  to  go  in  search  of  the  garden 
of  the  Hesperides.  And  once  the  adventure  was  un- 
dertaken by  a  hero  who  had  enjoyed  very  little  peace 
or  rest  since  he  came  into  the  world.  At  the  time 
of  which  I  am  going  to  speak  he  was  wandering 
through  the  pleasant  land  of  Italy,  with  a  mighty 
club  in  his  hand  and  a  bow  and  quiver  slung  across 
his  shoulders.  He  was  wrapt  in  the  skin  of  the  big- 
gest and  fiercest  lion  that  ever  had  been  seen,  and 
which  he  himself  had  killed;  and  though,  on  tlie 
whole,  he  was  kind  and  generous  and  noble,  there 
^as  a  good  deal  of  the  lion's  fierceness  in  his  heart. 
As  he  went  on  his  way  he  continually  inquired  whether 
that  were  the  right  road  to  the  famous  garden. 
But  none  of  the  country  people  knew  anything  about 
9 


130  THE  THREE  (jOi^DEN  APPLES. 

the  matter,  and  many  looked  as  if  they  would  have 
laughed  at  the  question  if  the  stranger  had  not  car- 
ried so  very  big  a  club. 

So  he  journeyed  on  and  on,  still  making  the  same 
inquiry,  until  at  last  he  came  to  the  brink  of  a  river, 
vvhere  some  beautiful  young  women  sat  twining 
wreaths  of  flowers. 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  pretty  maidens,"  asked  the  stran- 
ger, "  whether  this  is  the  right  way  to  the  garden  o| 
the  Ilesperides?" 

The  young  women  had  been  having  a  fine  time  to- 
gether, weaving  the  flowers  into  wreaths  and  crowning 
one  another's  heads.  And  there  seemed  to  be  a  kind 
of  magic  in  the  touch  of  their  fingers  that  made  the 
flowers  more  fresh  and  dewy,  and  of  brighter  hues 
and  sweeter  fragrance,  while  they  played  with  them, 
than  even  when  they  had  been  growing  on  their  native 
stems.  But  on  hearing  the  stranger's  question  they 
dropped  all  their  flowers  on  the  grass  and  gazed  at 
him  with  astonishment. 

"  The  garden  of  the  Hesperides!"  cried  one.  "  We 
thought  mortals  had  been  weary  of  seeking  it  after 
so  many  disappointments.  And  pray,  adventurous 
traveller,  what  do  you  want  there?" 

"A  certain  king  who  is  my  cousin,"  replied  he, 
'  "  has  ordered  me  to  get  him  three  of  the  golden 
apples." 

"  Most  of  the  young  men  who  go  in  quest  of  these 


THE  TiiREE  GOLDEN  APPLES.  181 

apples,"  observed  another  of  the  damsels,  "desire  to 
obtain  them  for  themselves  or  to  present  them  to  some 
fair  maiden  whom  they  love.  Do  you,  then,  love  this 
king,  your  cousin,  so  very  much?" 

"Perhaps  not,"  replied  the  stranger,  sighing. 
**  He  has  often  been  severe  and  cruel  to  me.  But  it 
is  my  destiny  to  obey  him." 

"And  do  you  know,"  asked  the  damsel  who  had 
first  spoken,  "  that  a  terrible  dragon  with  a  hundred 
heads  keeps  watch  under  the  golden  apple-tree?" 

"I  know  it  well,"  answered  the  stranger  calmly. 
"  But  from  my  cradle  upward  it  has  been  my  busi- 
ness, and  almost  my  pastime,  to  deal  with  serpents 
and  dragons." 

The  young  women  looked  at  his  massive  club  and 
at  the  shaggy  lion's  skin  which  he  wore,  and  likewise 
at  his  heroic  limbs  and  figure,  and  they  whispered  to 
each  other  that  the  stranger  appeared  to  be  one  who 
might  reasonably  expect  to  perform  deeds  far  beyond 
the  might  of  other  men.  But  then  the  dragon  with 
a  hundred  heads!  What  mortal,  even  if  he  possessed 
a  hundred  lives,  could  hope  to  escape  the  fangs  of 
such  a  monster?  So  kindhearted  were  the  maidens 
that  they  could  not  bear  to  see  this  brave  and  hand- 
some traveller  attempt  what  was  so  very  dangerous, 
and  devote  himself  most  probably  to  become  a  meal 
for  the  dragon's  hundred  ravenous  mouths. 

"Go  back!"  cried  they  all;  "go  back  to  your  own 


133  THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES. 

home!  Yonr  mother,  beholding  yon  safe  and  sound, 
will  shed  tears  of  joy;  and  what  can  she  do  more 
should  you  win  ever  so  great  a  victory?  No  matter 
for  the  golden  apples!  No  matter  for  the  king,  your 
cruel  cousin!  We  do  not  wish  the  dragon  with  the 
hundred  heads  to  eat  you  up." 

The  stranger  seemed  to  grow  impatient  at  these 
remonstrances.  He  carelessly  lifted  his  mighty  club 
and  let  it  fall  upon  a  rock  that  lay  half- buried  in  the 
earth  near  by.  With  the  force  of  that  idle  blow  the 
great  rock  was  shattered  all  to  pieces.  It  cost  the 
stranger  no  more  effort  to  achieve  this  feat  of  a  giant's 
strength  than  for  one  of  the  young  maidens  to  touch 
her  sister's  rosy  cheek  with  a  flower. 

"Do  you  not  believe,"  said  he,  looking  at  the  dam- 
sels with  a  smile,  "  that  such  a  blow  would  have 
crushed  one  of  the  dragon's  hundred  heads?" 

Then  he  sat  down  on  the  grass  and  told  them  the 
storv  of  his  life,  or  as  much  of  it  as  he  could  remem- 
ber,  from  the  day  when  he  was  first  cradled  in  a  war- 
rior's brazen  shield.  While  he  lay  there  two  immense 
serpents  came  gliding  over  the  floor  and  opened  their 
hideous  jaws  to  devour  him,  and  he,  a  baby  of  a  few 
months  old,  had  gripped  one  of  the  fierce  snakes  in 
each  of  his  little  fists  and  strangled  them  to  death. 
When  he  was  but  a  stripling  he  had  killed  a  huge  lion, 
almost  as  big  as  the  one  whose  vast  and  shaggy  hide 
he  now  wore  upon  his  shoulders.     The  next  thing 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES.  133 

that  he  had  done  was  to  fight  a  battle  with  an  ugly 
sort  of  monster  called  a  hydra,  which  had  no  less  than 
nine  heads,  and  exceedingly  sharp  teeth  in  every  one 
of  them. 

"But  the  dragon  of  the  Hesperides,  you  know," 
observed  one  of  the  damsels,  "has  a  hundred  heads!" 

"Nevertheless,"  replied  the  stranger.  "I  would 
rather  fight  two  such  dragons  than  a  single  hydra. 
For  as  fast  as  I  cut  off  a  head  two  others  grew  in  its 
place;  and,  besides,  there  was  one  of  the  heads  that 
could  not  possibly  be  killed,  but  kept  biting  as  fiercely 
as  ever  long  after  it  was  cut  off.  So  T  was  forced  to 
bury  it  under  a  stone,  where  it  is  doubtless  alive  to 
this  very  day.  But  the  hydra's  body  and  its  eight 
other  heads  will  never  do  any  further  mischief." 

The  damsels,  judging  that  the  story  was  likely  to 
last  a  good  while,  had  been  preparing  a  repast  of  bread 
and  grapes,  that  the  stranger  might  refresh  himself 
in  the  intervals  of  his  talk.  They  took  pleasure  in 
helping  him  to  this  simple  food,  and  now  and  then 
one  of  them  would  put  a  sweet  grape  between  her  rosy 
lips,  lest  it  should  make  him  bashful  to  eat  alone. 

TJie  traveller  proceeded  to  tell  how  he  chased  a  very 
swift  stag  for  a  twelvemonth  together  without  ever 
stopping  to  take  breath,  and  had  at  last  caught  it  by 
the  antlers  and  carried  it  home  alive.  And  he  had 
fought  with  a  very  odd  race  of  people,  half-horses  and 
half-men,   and  had  put  them  all  to  death,  Kfrom  a 


134  THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES. 

sense  of  duty,  in  order  that  their  ugly  figures  might 
never  be  seen  any  more.  Besides  all  this,  he  took  to 
himself  great  credit  for  having  cleaned  out  a  stable 

"  Do  you  call  that  a  wonderful  exploit?"  asked  onc- 
of  the  young  maidens,  with  a  smile.  "  Any  clown  ii^ 
"the  country  has  done  as  much." 
'  "  Had  it  been  an  ordinary  stable,"  replied  the  stran  • 
ger,  "  I  should  not  have  mentioned  it.  But  this  was* 
so  gigantic  a  task  that  it  would  have  taken  me  all  my 
life  to  perform  it  if  I  had  not  luckily  thought  of  turn- 
ing the  channel  of  a  river  through  the  stable-door. 
That  did  the  business  in  a  very  short  time." 

Seeing  how  earnestly  his  fair  auditors  listened,  he 
next  told  them  how  he  had  shot  some  monstrous 
birds,  and  had  caught  a  wild  bull  alive  and  let  him  go 
again,  and  had  tamed  a  number  of  very  wild  horses, 
and  had  conquered  Hippolyta,  the  warlike  queen 
of  the  Amazons.  He  mentioned,  likewise,  that  he 
had  taken  off  Hippolyta's  enchanted  girdle  and  had 
given  it  to  the  daughter  of  his  cousin  the  king. 

"  Was  it  the  girdle  of  Venus,"  inquired  the  pret- 
tiest of  the  maidens,  "  which  makes  women  beautiful?" 

"No,"  answered  the  stranger;  "it  had  formerly 
been  the  sword-belt  of  Mars,  and  it  can  only  maie 
the  wearer  valiant  and  courageous." 

"An  old  sword-belt!"  cried  the  damsel,  tossing  hxjt 
head.     "Then  I  should  not  care  about  having  it." 

"You  are  right,"  said  the  stranger. 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES.  135 

Going  on  with  his  wonderful  narrative,  he  informed 
the  maidens  that  as  strange  an  adventure  as  ever  hap- 
pened was  when  he  fought  with  Geryon,  the  six-leg- 
ged man.  This  was  a  very  odd  and  frightful  sort  of 
figure,  as  you  may  well  believe.  Any  person  looking 
at  his  tracks  in  the  sand  or  snow  would  suppose  tlmt 
three  sociable  companions  had  been  walking  along 
together.  On  hearing  his  footsteps  at  a  little  distan ce, 
it  was  no  more  than  reasonable  to  judge  that  several 
people  must  be  coming.  But  it  was  only  the  strar.ge 
man  Geryon  clattering  onward  with  his  six  legs. 

Six  legs  and  one  gigantic  Dody !  Certainly  he  must 
have  been  a  very  queer  monster  to  look  at;  and,  my 
stars,  what  a  waste  of  shoeleather! 

When  the  stranger  had  finished  the  story  of  his 
adventures  he  looked  around  at  the  attentive  faces 
of  the  maidens. 

"  Perhaps  you  m.ay  have  heard  of  me  before?"  said 
he,  modestly.     "My  name  is  Hercules." 

"We  had  already  guessed  it,"  replied  the  maidens, 
"  for  your  wonderful  deeds  are  known  all  over  the 
world.  We  do  not  think  it  strange  any  longer  that 
you  should  set  out  in  quest  of  the  golden  apples  of 
the/fiesperides.  Come,  sisters,  let  us  crown  the  hero 
with  flowers!" 

Then  they  flung  beautiful  wreaths  over  his  stately 
head  and  mighty  shoulders,  so  that  the  lion's  skin 
was  almost  entirely  covered  with  roses.     They  took 


133  THE   THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES. 

possession  of  his  ponderous  club,  and  so  entwined  it 
about  with  the  brightest,  softest,  and  most  fragrant 
blossoms  that  not  a  finger's  breadth  of  its  oaken  sub- 
tance  could  be  seen.  It  looked  all  like  a  huge  bunch 
of  flowers.  Lastly,  they  joined  hands  and  danced 
around  him,  chanting  words  which  became  poetry 
of  their  own  accord  and  grew  into  a  choral  song 
in  honor  of  the  illustrious  Hercules. 

And  Hercules  was  rejoiced,  as  any  other  hero  would 
have  been,  to  know  that  these  fair  young  girls  had 
heard  of  the  valiant  deeds  which  it  had  cost  him  so 
much  toil  and  danger  to  achieve.  But  still  he  was 
not  satisfied.  He  could  not  think  that  what  he  had 
alreadv  done  was  worthv  of  so  much  honor  while  there 
remained  any  bold  or  difficult  adventure  to  be  under- 
taken. 

"  Dear  maidens,"  said  he,  when  they  paused  to  take 
"breath,  "now  that  you  know  my  name,  will  you  not 
tell  me  how  I  am  to  reach  the  garden  of  the  Hes- 
perides?" 

"Ah!  must  you  go  so  soon?"  they  exclaimed. 
"You,  that  have  performed  so  many  wonders  and 
spent  such  a  toilsome  life,  cannot  you  content  your- 
self to  repose  a  little  while  on  the  margin  of  this 
peaceful  river?" 

Hercules  shook  his  head. 

"I  must  depart  now,"  said  he. 

"  We  will  then  give  you  the  best  directions  we  can," 


THE   THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES.  137' 

replied  the  damsels.  "  You  must  go  to  the  seashore^ 
and  find  out  the  Old  One,  and  compel  him  to  inform 
you  where  the  golden  apples  are  to  be  found." 

"The  Old  One  I"  repeated  Hercules,  laughing  at 
this  odd  name.     "  And,  pray,  Tvho  may  the  Old  One 

"Why,  the  Old  Man  of  the  Sea,  to  he  sure,"  an- 
Bwered  one  of  the  damsels.  "  He  has  fifty  daughters, 
whom  some  people  call  very  beautiful,  but  we  do  not 
think  it  proper  to  be  acquainted  with  them,  because 
they  have  sea-green  hair  and  taper  away  like  fishes. 
You  must  talk  with  this  Old  Man  of  the  Sea.  He  is 
a  seafaring  person,  and  knows  all  about  the  garden  of 
the  Hesperides,  for  it  is  situated  in  an  island  which 
he  is  often  in  the  habit  of  visiting." 

Hercules  then  asked  whereabouts  the  Old  One  was 
most  likely  to  be  met  with.  When  the  damsels  had 
informed  him  he  thanked  them  for  all  their  kindness 
— for  the  bread  and  grapes  with  which  they  had  fed 
him,  the  lovely  flowers  with  which  they  had  crownec 
him,  and  the  songs  and  dances  wherewith  they  had 
done  him  honor;  and  he  thanked  them  most  of  all  for 
tdlling  him  the  right  way — and  immediately  set  forth 
upon  his  journey. 

But  before  he  was  out  of  hearing  one  of  the  maid- 
ens called  after  him. 

"  Keep  fast  hold  of  the  Old  One  when  you  catck 
him!"    cried  she,  smiling  and  lifting  her  finger  i^> 


133  THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES. 

make  the  caution  more  impressive.  "  Do  not  be  as- 
tonished at  anything  that  may  happen.  Only  hold 
liim  fast,  and  he  will  tell  you  what  you  wish  to  know." 

Hercules  again  thanked  her  and  pursued  his  way, 
while  the  maidens  resumed  their  pleasant  labor  of 
making  flower-wreaths.  They  talked  about  the  hero 
long  after  he  was  gone. 

"  We  will  crown  him  with  the  loveliest  of  our  gar- 
lands," said  they,  "when  he  returns  hither  with  the 
three  golden  apples  after  slaying  the  dragon  with  a 
hundred  heads." 

Meanwhile,  Hercules  travelled  constantly  onward 
over  hill  and  dale  and  through  the  solitary  woods. 
Sometimes  he  swung  his  club  aloft  and  splintered  a 
mighty  oak  with  a  downright  blow.  His  mind  was 
so  full  of  the  giants  and  monsters  with  whom  it  was 
the  business  of  his  life  to  fight  that  perhaps  he  mistook 
the  great  tree  for  a  giant  or  a  monster.  And  so  eager 
was  Hercules  to  achieve  what  he  had  undertaken  that 
he  almost  regretted  to  have  spent  so  much  time  with 
the  damsels,  wasting  idle  breath  upon  the  story  of  his 
adventures.  But  thus  it  always  is  with  persons  who 
are  destined  to  perform  great  things.  What  they  have 
already  done  seems  less  than  nothing — what  they  have 
taken  in  hand  to  do  seems  worth  toil,  danger,  and 
life  itself. 

Persons  who  happened  to  be  passing  through  the 
forest  must  have  been  aiLiiohted  to  see  him  smite  th(? 


THJS   THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES.  139 

trees  with  his  great  club.  With  but  a  siugle  blow 
the  trunk  was  riven  as  by  the  stroke  of  lightning  and 
the  broad  boughs  came  rustling  and  crashing  down. 

Hastening  forward  without  ever  pausing  or  look- 
ing behind,  he  by  and  by  heard  the  sea  roaring  at  a 
distance.  At  this  sound  he  increased  his  speed,  and 
soon  came  to  a  beach  where  the  great  surf-waves  tum- 
bled themselves  upon  the  hard  sand  in  a  long  line  of 
snowy  foam.  At  one  end  of  the  beach,  however,  there 
was  a  pleasant  spot  where  some  green  shrubbery  clam- 
bered up  a  cliff,  making  its  rocky  face  look  soft  and 
beautiful.  A  carpet  of  verdant  grass,  largely  inter- 
mixed with  sweet-smelling  clover,  covered  the  narrow 
space  between  the  bottom  of  the  cliff  and  the  sea. 
And  what  should  Hercules  espy  there  but  an  old  man 
fast  asleep. 

But  was  it  really  and  truly  an  old  man?  Certainly, 
at  first  sight,  it  looked  very  like  one,  but  on  closer 
inspection  it  rather  seemed  to  be  some  kind  of  a  crcr. 
ture  that  lived  in  the  sea.  For  on  his  legs  and  arm 
there  were  scales  such  as  fishes  have;  he  was  web- 
footed  and  web-fingered,  after  the  fashion  of  a  duckj. 
and  his  long  beard,  being  of  a  greenish  tinge,  had 
more  the  appearance  of  a  tuft  of  seaweed  than  of  an 
ordinary  beard.  Have  you  never  seen  a  stick  of  tim- 
ber that  has  been  long  tossed  about  by  the  waves,  and 
has  got  all  overgrown  with  barnacles,  and,  at  last 
drifting  ashore,  seems  to  have  been  thrown  up  from 


140  THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES. 

the  very  deepest  bottom  of  the  sea?  Well,  the  old 
man  would  have  put  you  in  mind  of  just  such  a  wave- 
Cossed  spar.  But  Hercules,  the  instant  he  set  eyes  on 
this  strange  figure,  was  convinced  that  it  could  be  no 
other  than  the  Old  One  who  was  to  direct  him  on  his 
way. 

Yes,  it  was  the  selfsame  Old  Man  of  the  Sea  whom 
"the  hospitable  maidens  had  talked  to  him  about. 
Thanking  his  stars  for  the  lucky  accident  of  find- 
ing the  old  fellow  asleep,  Hercules  stole  on  tiptoe 
toward  him  and  caught  him  by  the  arm  and  leg. 

"Tell  me,"  cried  he,  before  the  Old  One  was  well 
awake,  "  which  is  the  way  to  the  garden  of  the  Hes- 
periJes?"  , 

As  you  may  easily  imagine,  the  Old  Man  of  the  Sea 
awoke  in  a  fright.  But  his  astonishment  could  hardly 
have  been  greater  than  was  that  of  Hercules  the  next 
moment.  For,  all  of  a  sudden,  the  Old  One  seemed 
to  disappear  out  of  his  grasp,  and  he  found  himself 
holding  a  stag  by  the  fore  and  hind  leg!  But  still 
he  kept  fast  hold.  Then  the  stag  disappeared,  and 
in  its  stead  there  was  a  seabird,  fluttering  and  scream* 
ing  while  Hercules  clutched  it  by  the  wing  and  claw. 
But  the  bird  could  not  get  away.  Immediately  after- 
ward there  was  an  ugly  three-headed  dog,  which 
grov/led  and  barked  at  Hercules  and  snapped  fiercely 
at  the  hands  by  which  he  held  him!  But  Hercules 
would  not  let  him  go.     In  another  minute,  instead 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES.  141 

of  the  three -headed  dog,  what  should  appear  but  Ger- 
yon,  the  six-legged  man-monster,  kicking  at  Hercules 
with  five  of  his  legs  in  order  to  get  the  remaining  one 
at  liberty!  But  Hercules  held  on.  By  and  by  no 
Geryon  was  there,  but  a  huge  snake  like  one  of  those 
which  Hercules  had  strangled  in  his  babyhood,  only 
a  hundred  times  as  big;  and  it  twisted  and  twined 
about  the  hero's  neck  and  body,  and  threw  its  tail 
high  into  the  air,  and  opened  its  deadly  jaws  as  if  to 
devour  him  outright,  so  that  it  was  really  a  very  ter- 
rible spectacle.  But  Hercules  was  no  whit  disheart- 
ened, and  squeezed  the  great  snake  so  tightly  that  he 
soon  began  to  hiss  with  pain. 

You  must  understand  that  the  Old  Man  of  the  Sea, 
though  he  generally  looked  so  like  the  wave-beaten 
figurehead  of  a  vessel,  had  the  power  of  assuming  any 
shape  he  pleased.  When  he  found  himself  so  roughly 
seized  by  Hercules,  he  had  been  in  hopes  of  putting 
him  into  such  surprise  and  terror  by  these  magical 
transformations  that  the  hero  would  be  glad  to  let 
him  go.  If  Hercules  had  relaxed  his  grasp,  the  Old 
One  would  certainly  have  plunged  down  to  the  very 
bottom  of  the  sea,  whence  he  would  not  soon  have 
given  himself  the  trouble  of  coming  up  in  order  to 
answer  any  impertinent  questions.  Ninety-nine 
people  out  of  a  hundred,  I  suppose,  would  have  been 
frightened  out  of  their  wits  by  the  very  first  of  his 
ugly  shapes,  and  would  have  taken  to  their  heels  at 


142      THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES. 

once.  For  one  of  the  hardest  things  in  this  world  is 
to  see  the  difference  between  real  dangers  and  imagi- 
nary ones. 

But  as  Hercules  held  on  so  stubbornly,  and  only 
squeezed  the  Old  One  so  much  the  tighter  at  every 
change  of  shape,  and  really  put  him  to  no  small  toi'- 
ture,  he  finally  thought  it  best  to  reappear  in  his  own 
figure.  So  there  he  was  again,  a  fishy,  scaly,  web- 
footed  sort  of  personage,  with  something  like  a  tuft 
of  seaweed  at  his  chin. 

"  Pray,  what  do  you  want  with  me?"  cried  the  Old 
One  as  soon  as  he  could  take  breath,  for  it  is  quite  a 
tiresome  affair  to  go  through  so  many  false  shapes. 
"  Why  do  you  squeeze  me  so  hard?  Let  me  go  this 
moment,  or  I  shall  begin  to  consider  you  an  extremely 
uncivil  person. 

"My  name  is  Hercules!"  roared  the  mighty  stran- 
ger, "  and  you  will  never  get  out  of  my  clutch  until 
you  tell  me  the  nearest  way  to  the  garden  of  the 
Hesperides." 

When  the  old  fellow  heard  who  it  was  that  had 
caught  him,  he  saw  with  half  an  eye  that  it  would  be 
necessary  to  tell  him  everything  that  he  wanted  to 
know.  The  Old  One  was  an  inhabitant  of  the  sea, 
you  must  recollect,  and  roamed  about  everywhere, 
like  other  seafaring  people.  Of  course  he  had  often 
heard  cf  the  fame  of  Hercules,  and  of  the  wonderful 
things  that  he  was  constantly  performing  in  various 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES.  143 

parts  of  the  earth,  and  how  determined  he  always  was 
to  accomplish  whatever  he  undertook.  He  therefore 
made  no  more  attempts  to  escape,  but  told  the  hero 
how  to  find  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides,  and  like- 
wise warned  him  of  many  ditficulties  which  must  be 
overcome  before  he  could  arrive  thither. 

"  You  must  go  on  tnus  and  thus,"  said  the  Old  Man- 
of  the  Sea,  after  taking  the  points  of  the  compass, 
"till  you  come  in  sight  of  a  very  tall  giant  who  holds 
the  sky  on  his  shoulders.  And  the  giant,  if  he  hap- 
pens to  be  in  the  humor,  will  tell  you  exactly  where 
the  garden  of  the  Hesperides  lies." 

"  And  if  the  giant  happens  not  to  be  in  the  humor,** 
remarked  Hercules,  balancing  his  club  on  the  tip  of 
his  finger,  "  perhaps  I  shall  find  means  to  persuade 
him." 

Thanking  the  Old  Man  of  the  Sea,  and  begging  his 
pardon  for  having  squeezed  him  so  roughly,  the  hero 
resumed  his  journey.  He  met  with  a  great  many 
strange  adventures,  which  would  be  well  worth  your 
hearing  if  I  had  leisure  to  narrate  them  as  minutely 
as  they  deserve. 

It  was  in  this  journey,  if  I  mistake  not,  that  he 
encountered  a  prodigious  giant  who  was  so  wonder- 
fully contrived  by  nature  that  every  time  he  touched 
the  earth  he  became  ten  times  as  strong  as  ever  he 
had  been  before.  His  name  was  Antaeus.  You  may 
see.  plainly  enough,  that  it  was  a  very  difficult  busb 


144  THE   THREE   GOLDEN  APPLES. 

ness  to  fight  with  such  a  fellow,  for  as  ofteu  as  he  got 
a  knock-down  blow,  up  he  started  again,  stronger, 
fiercer,  and  abler  to  use  his  weapons  than  it*  his  enemy 
had  let  him  alone.  Thus,  the  harder  Hercules 
pounded  the  giant  with  his  club,  the  farther  he 
seemed  from  winning  the  victory.  I  have  sometimes 
argued  with  such  people,  but  never  fought  with  one. 
The  only  way  in  which  Hercules  found  it  possible  to 
finish  the  battle  was  by  lifting  Antseus  off  his  feet 
into  the  air,  and  squeezing  and  squeezing  and  squeez- 
ing him,  until  finally  the  strength  was  quite  squeezed 
out  of  his  enormous  body. 

When  this  affair  was  finished  Hercules  continued 
his  travels,  and  went  to  the  land  of  Egypt,  where  he 
was  taken  prisoner,  and  would  have  been  put  to  death 
if  he  had  not  slain  the  king  of  the  country  and  made 
his  escape.  Passing  through  the  deserts  of  Africa 
and  going  as  fast  as  he  could,  he  arrived  at  last  on 
the  shore  of  the  great  ocean.  And  here,  unless  he 
could  walk  on  the  crests  of  the  billows,  it  seemed  as 
if  his  journey  must  needs  be  at  an  end. 

Nothing  was  before  him  save  the  foaming,  dash- 
ing,  measureless  ocean.  But  suddenly,  as  he  lookei 
toward  the  horizon,  he  saw  something,  a  great  way 
off,  which  he  had  not  seen  the  moment  before.  It 
gleamed  very  brightly,  almost  as  you  may  have  beheld 
the  round,  golden  disk  of  the  sun  when  it  rises  or  sets 
over  the  edge  of  the  world.     It  evidently  drew  nearer. 


THE  THREE  GOLDET^  APPLES.  145 

for  at  every  instant  this  wonderful  object  became 
laro^r  and  more  lustrous.  At  length  it  had  come  so 
nigh  that  Hercules  discovered  it  to  be  an  immense 
cup  or  bowl  made  either  of  gold  or  burnished  brass. 
How  it  had  got  afloat  upon  the  sea  is  more  than  I  can 
tell  you.  There  it  was,  at  all  events,  rolling  on  the 
tumultuous  billows,  which  tossed  it  up  and  down  and 
heaved  their  foamy  tops  against  its  sides,  but  without 
ever  throwing  their  spray  over  the  brim. 

"I  have  seen  many  giants  in  my  time,"  thought 
Hercules,  "  but  never  one  that  would  need  to  drink 
his  wine  out  of  a  cup  like  this." 

And,  true  enough,  what  a  cup  it  must  have  been! 
It  was  as  large — as  large — but,  in  short,  I  am  afraid 
to  say  how  immeasurably  large  it  was.  To  speak 
within  bounds,  it  was  ten  times  larger  than  a  great 
mill-wheel,  and,  all  of  metal  as  it  was,  it  floated  over 
the  heaving  surges  more  lightly  than  an  acorn-cup 
adoMTi  the  brook.  The  waves  tumbled  it  onward 
until  it  grazed  against  the  shore  within  a  short  dis- 
tance of  the  spot  where  Hercules  was  standing. 

As  soon  as  this  happened  he  knew  what  was  to  be 
done,  for  he  had  not  gone  through  so  many  remark- 
able adventures  without  learning  pretty  well  how  to 
conduct  himself  whenever  anything  came  to  pass  a 
little  out  of  the  common  rule.  It  was  just  as  clear 
as  daylight  that  this  marvellous  cup  had  been  set 
adrift  by  some  unseen  power  and  guided  hitherward 
■^  10 


146  THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES. 

in  order  to  carry  Hercules  across  the  sea  on  his  way 
to  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides.  Accordingly,  with- 
out a  moment's  delay  he  clambered  o^er  the  brim 
and  slid  down  on  the  inside,  where,  spreading  out  his 
lion's  skin,  he  proceeded  to  take  a  little  repose.  He 
had  scarcely  rested  until  now  since  he  bade  farewell 
to  the  damsels  on  the  margin  of  the  river.  The 
waves  dashed  with  a  pleasant  and  ringing  sound 
against  the  circumference  of  the  hollow  cup;  it  rocked 
lightly  to  and  fro,  and  the  motion  was  so  soothing 
that  it  speedily  rocked  Hercules  into  an  agreeable 
slumber. 

His  nap  had  probably  lasted  a  good  while,  when  the 
cup  chanced  to  graze  against  a  rock,  and  in  conse- 
quence immediately  resounded  and  reverberated 
through  its  golden  or  brazen  substance  a  hundred 
times  as  loudly  as  ever  you  heard  a  church-bell.  The 
noise  awoke  Hercules,  who  instantly  started  up  and 
gazed  around  him,  wondering  w^hereabouts  he  was. 
He  was  not  long  in  discovering  that  the  cup  had 
floated  across  a  great  part  of  the  sea,  and  was  ap- 
proaching the  shore  of  what  seemed  to  be  an  island. 
And  on  that  island  what  do  you  think  he  saw? 

No,  you  will  never  guess  it — not  if  you  were  to  try 
fifty  thousand  times!  It  positively  appears  to  me 
that  this  was  the  most  marvellous  spectacle  that  had 
€ver  been  seen  by  Hercules  in  the  whole  course  of  his 
w^onderful  travels  and  adventures.     It  was  a  greater 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES.  147 

marvel  than  the  hydra  with  nine  heads,  which  kept 
growing  twice  as  fast  as  they  were  cut  off;  greater 
than  the  six-legged  man-monster;  greater  than  An- 
taeus; greater  than  anything  that  was  ever  beheld  by 
anybody  before  or  since  the  days  of  Hercules,  or  than 
anything  that  remains  to  be  beheld  by  travellers  iu 
all  time  to  come.     It  was  a  giant! 

But  such  an  intolerably  big  giant!  A  giant  as  tall 
as  a  mountain;  so  vast  a  giant  that  the  clouds  rested 
about  his  midst  like  a  girdle,  and  hung  like  a  hoary 
beard  from  his  chin,  and  flitted  before  his  huge  eyes 
so  that  he  could  neither  see  Hercules  nor  the  golden 
cup  in  which  he  was  voyaging.  And,  most  wonder- 
ful of  all,  the  giant  held  up  his  great  hands  and  ap- 
peared to  support  the  sky,  which,  so  far  as  Hercules 
could  discern  through  the  clouds,  was  resting  upon 
his  head !  This  does  really  seem  almost  too  much  to 
believe. 

Meanwhile  the  bright  cup  continued  to  float  on- 
ward, and  finally  touched  the  strand.  Just  then  a 
iireeze  wafted  away  the  clouds  from  before  the  giant's 
'"^isage,  and  Hercules  beheld  it,  with  all  its  enormous 
features — eyes  each  of  them  as  big  as  yonder  lake,  a 
nose  a  mile  long,  and  a  mouth  of  the  same  width. 
It  was  a  countenance  terrible  from  its  enormity  of 
size,  but  disconsolate  and  weary,  even  as  you  may  see 
the  faces  of  many  people  nowadays  who  are  com- 
pelled to  sustain  burdens  above  their  strength.     AVhat 


i48  THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES. 

the  sky  was  to  the  giant  such  are  the  cares  of  earth 
to  those  who  let  themselves  be  weighed  down  by  theii:i. 
And  whenever  men  undertake  what  is  beyond  the 
just  measure  of  their  abilities  they  encounter  precisel} 
such  a  doom  as  had  befallen  this  poor  giant. 

Poor  fellow!  He  had  evidently  stood  there  a  long 
while.  An  ancient  forest  had  been  growing  and  de- 
caying around  his  feet,  and  oak  trees  of  six  or  seven 
centuries  old  had  sprung  from  the  acorns  and  forced 
themselves  between  his  toes.  The  giant  now  looked 
down  from  the  far  height  of  his  great  eyes,  and,  per- 
ceiving Hercules,  roared  out,  in  a  voice  that  resem- 
bled thunder  proceeding  out  of  the  cloud  that  had 
just  flitted  away  from  his  face: 

"  Who  are  you,  down  at  my  feet,  there?  And 
whence  do  you  come  in  that  little  cup?" 

"I  am  Hercules!"  thundered  back  the  hero,  in  a 
voice  pretty  nearly  or  quite  as  loud  as  the  giant's 
own.  "  And  I  am  seeking  for  the  garden  of  the  Hes- 
perides!" 

"Ho!  ho!  ho!"  roared  the  giant,  in  a  fit  of  im- 
mense laughter.     "That  is  a  wise  adventure,  truly!" 

*' And  why  not?"  cried  Hercules,  getting  a  little 
angry  at  the  giant's  mirth.  "  Do  you  think  I  am 
afraid  of  the  dragon  with  a  hundred  heads?" 

Just  at  this  time,  while  they  were  talking  together, 
some  black  clouds  gathered  about  the  giant's  middle 
and  burst  into  a  tremendous  storm  of  thunder  and 


A  Wonder  Book  3 


PANDORA  AND  HER  BOX 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLi:.^.  149 

lightning,  causing  such  a  pother  that  Hercules  found 
it  impossible  to  distinguish  a  word.  Only  the  giant's 
immeasurable  legs  were  to  be  seen,  standing  up  into 
the  obscurity  of  the  tempest,  and  now  and  then  a 
momentary  glimpse  of  his  whole  figure  mantled  in  a 
volume  of  mist.  He  seemed  to  be  speaking  most  of 
the  time,  but  his  big,  deep,  rough  voice  chimed  in 
with  the  reverberations  of  the  thunder-claps  and 
rolled  away  over  the  hills  like  them.  Thus  by  talk- 
ing out  of  season  the  foolish  giant  expended  an  in- 
calculable quantity  of  breath  to  no  purpose,  for  the 
thunder  spoke  quite  as  intelligibly  as  ha 

At  last  the  storm  swept  over  as  suddenly  as  it  had 
come.  And  there  again  was  the  clear  sky,  and  the 
weary  giant  holding  it  up,  and  the  pleasant  sunshine 
beaming  over  his  vast  height  and  illuminating  it 
against  the  background  of  the  sullen  thunder-clouds. 
So  far  above  the  shower  had  been  his  head  that  not  a 
hair  of  it  was  moistened  by  the  raindrops. 

When  the  giant  could  see  Hercules  still  standing 
on  the  seashore  he  roared  out  to  him  anew : 

"I  am  Atlas,  the  mightiest  giant  in  the  world! 
And  I  hold  the  sky  upon  my  head !" 

"So  I  see,"  answered  Hercules.  "But  can  you 
show  me  the  way  to  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides?" 

"What  do  you  want  there?"  asked  the  giant. 

"  I  want  three  of  the  golden  apples,"  shouted  Her- 
cules, "for  my  cousin  the  king." 


150  THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES. 

"There  is  nobody  but  myself,"  quoth  the  giant, 
"  that  can  go  to  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides  and 
gather  the  golden  apples.  If  it  were  not  for  this  lit- 
,tle  business  of  holding  up  the  sky,  I  would  make  half 
a  dozen  steps  across  the  sea  and  get  them  for  you." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  replied  Hercules.  "And 
cannot  you  rest  the  sky  upon  a  mountain?" 

"  None  of  them  are  quite  high  enough,"  said  Atlas, 
shaking  his  head.  "  But  if  you  were  to  take  your 
stand  on  the  summit  of  that  nearest  one  your  head 
would  be  pretty  nearly  on  a  level  with  mine.  You 
seem  to  be  a  fellow  of  some  strength.  What  if  you 
should  take  my  burden  on  your  shoulders  while  I  do 
your  errand  for  you?" 

Hercules,  as  you  must  be  careful  to  remember,  was 
a  remarkably  strong  man;  and,  though  it  certainly 
requires  a  great  deal  of  muscular  power  to  uphold 
the  sky,  yet  if  any  mortal  could  be  supposed  capable 
of  such  an  exploit,  he  was  the  one.  Nevertheless  it 
jeemed  so  difficult  an  undertaking  that  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life  he  hesitated. 

"Is  the  sky  very  heavy?"  he  inquired. 

"Why,  not  particularly  so  at  first,"  answered  the 
giant,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  "  but  it  gets  to  be  a 
little  burdensome  after  a  thousand  years." 

"And  how  long  a  time,"  asked  the  hero,  "will  it 
take  you  to  get  the  golden  apples?" 

*  Oh,  that  will  be  done  in  a  few  moments!"  cried 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES.  151 

Atlas.  "  I  shall  take  ten  or  fifteen  miles  at  a  stride, 
and  be  at  the  garden  and  back  again  before  your 
shoulders  begin  to  ache." 

"Well,  then,"  answered  Hercules,  "I  will  climb 
the  mountain  behind  you  and  relieve  you  of  your 
burden." 

The  truth  is,  Hercules  had  a  kind  heart  of  his  own, 
and  considered  that  he  should  be  doing  the  giant  a 
favor  by  allowing  him  this  opportunity  for  a  ramble. 
And,  besides,  he  thought  that  it  would  be  still  more 
for  his  own  glory  if  he  could  boast  of  upholding  the 
sky  than  merely  to  do  so  ordinary  a  thing  as  to  con- 
quer a  dragon  with  a  hundred  heads.  Accordingly, 
without  more  words,  the  sky  was  shifted  from  the 
shoulders  of  Atlas  and  placed  upon  those  of  Hercules. 

"When  this  was  safely  accomplished,  the  first  thing 
that  the  giant  did  was  to  stretch  himself;  and  you 
may  imagine  what  a  prodigious  spectacle  he  was  then. 
Next,  he  slowly  lifted  one  of  his  feet  out  of  the  forest 
that  had  grow^n  up  around  it,  then  the  other.  Then 
all  at  once  he  began  to  caper  and  leap  and  dance  for 
joy  at  his  freedom,  flinging  himself  nobody  knows 
how  high  into  the  air,  and  floundering  down  again 
with  a  shock  that  made  the  earth  tremble.  Then  he 
laughed — ho!  ho!  ho! — with  a  thunderous  roar  that 
was  echoed  from  the  moutains  far  and  near,  as  if  they 
and  the  giant  had  been  so  many  rejoicing  brothers. 
When  his  joy  had  a  little  subsided  he  stepped  into  ih» 


152  THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 

sea — ten  miles  at  the  first  stride,  which  brought  him 
mid-leg  deep;  and  ten  miles  at  the  second,  when  the 
water  came  Just  above  his  knees;  and  ten  miles  more 
at  the  third,  by  which  he  was  immersed  nearly  to  his 
waist.     This  was  the  greatest  depth  of  the  sea. 

Hercules  watched  the  giant  as  he  still  went  on- 
ward, for  it  was  really  a  wonderful  sight,  this 
immense  human  form  more  than  thirty  miles  off, 
half-hidden  in  the  ocean,  but  with  his  upper  half  as 
tall  and  misty  and  blue  as  a  distant  mountain.  At 
last  the  gigantic  shape  faded  entirely  out  of  view. 
And  now  Hercules  began  to  consider  what  he  should 
do  in  case  Atlas  should  be  drowned  in  the  sea,  or  if 
he  were  to  be  stung  to  death  by  the  dragon  with  the 
hundred  heads  which  guarded  the  golden  apples  of 
the  Hesperides.  If  any  such  misfortune  were  to  hap- 
pen, how  could  he  ever  get  rid  of  the  sky?  And,  by 
the  bye,  its  weight  began  already  to  be  a  little  irksome 
to  his  head  and  shoulders. 

"  I  really  pity  the  poor  giant,"  thought  Hercules. 
"  If  it  wearies  me  so  much  in  ten  minutes,  how  must 
it  have  wearied  him  in  a  thousand  years!" 

Oh,  my  sweet  little  people,  you  have  no  idea  what 
a  weight  there  was  in  that  same  blue  sky  which  looks 
so  soft  and  aerial  above  our  heads!  And  there,  too, 
was  the  bluster  of  the  wind,  and  the  chill  and  watery 
clouds,  and  the  blazing  sun,  all  taking  their  turns  to 
make  Hercules  uncomfortable.     He  began  to  be  afraid 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES.  153 

that  the  giant  would  never  come  back.  He  gazed 
wistfully  at  the  world  beneath  him,  and  acknowledged 
to  himself  that  it  was  a  far  happier  kind  of  life  ^.o  be 
a  shepherd  at  the  foot  of  a  mountain  than  to  stand 
on  its  dizzy  summit  and  bear  up  the  firmament  ^vith 
his  might  and  main.  For  of  course,  as  you  will  easily 
understand,  Hercules  had  an  immense  responsibility 
on  his  mind,  as  well  as  a  weight  on  his  head  a.nd 
shoulders.  Why,  if  he  did  not  stand  perfectly  still 
and  keep  the  sky  immovable,  the  sun  would  perhaps 
be  put  ajar !  Or,  after  nightfall,  a  great  many  of  the 
stars  might  be  loosened  from  their  places,  and  shower 
down  like  fiery  rain  upon  the  people's  heads!  And 
how  ashamed  would  the  hero  be  if,  owing  to  his  un- 
steadiness beneath  its  weight,  the  sky  should  crack 
and  show  a  great  fissure  quite  across  it! 

I  know  not  how  long  it  was  before,  to  his  unspeak- 
able joy,  he  beheld  the  huge  shape  of  the  giant,  like 
%  cloud,  on  the  far-off  edge  of  the  sea.  At  his  nearer 
approach  Atlas  held  up  his  hand,  in  which  Hercules 
could  perceive  three  magnificent  golden  apples  as  big 
as  pumpkins,  all  hanging  from  one  branch. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  again,"  shouted  Hercules 
when  the  giant  was  within  hearing.  *'  So  you  have 
got  the  golden  apples?" 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  answered  Atlas;  "and  very 
fair  apples  they  are.  I  took  the  finest  that  grew  on 
the  tree,  I  assure  you.     Ah,  it  is  a  beautiful  spot, 


154  THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES. 

that  garden  of  the  Hesperides!  Yes,  and  the  dragon 
with  a  hundred  heads  is  a  sight  worth  any  man's  see- 
ing. After  all,  you  had  better  have  gone  for  the 
apples  yourself." 

"No  matter,"  replied  Hercules.  "You  have  hal 
a  pleasant  ramble,  and  have  done  the  business  as  well 
as  I  could.  I  heartily  thank  you  for  your  trouble. 
And  now,  as  I  have  a  long  way  to  go  and  am  rather 
in  haste,  and  as  the  king  my  cousin  is  anxious  to  re- 
ceive the  golden  apples,  will  you  be  kind  enough  to 
take  the  sky  off  my  shoulders  again?" 

"Why,  as  to  that,"  said  the  giant,  chucking  the 
golden  apples  into  the  air  twenty  miles  high  or  there- 
abouts and  catching  them  as  they  came  down — "as 
to  that,  my  good  friend,  I  consider  you  a  little  un- 
reasonable. Cannot  I  carry  the  golden  apples  to  the 
king  your  cousin  much  quicker  than  you  could?  As 
his  majesty  is  in  such  a  hurry  to  get  them,  I  promise 
you  to  take  my  longest  strides.  And,  besides,  I  have 
no  fancy  for  burdening  myself  with  the  sky  just 
now." 

Here  Hercules  grew  impatient,  and  gave  a  grea; 
shrug  of  his  shoulders.  It  being  now  twilight,  you 
might  have  seen  two  or  treer  stars  tumble  out  of  their 
places.  Everybody  on  earth  looked  upward  in 
affiright,  thinking  that  the  sky  might  be  going  to  fall 
next. 

"Oh,  that  will  never  do!"    cried  Giant  Atlas  witk 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES.  155 

a  great  roar  of  laughter.  "  I  have  not  let  fall  so 
many  stars  within  the  last  five  centuries.  By  the 
time  you  have  stood  there  as  long  as  I  did  you  will 
begin  to  learn  patience." 

"What!"  shouted  Hercules,  very  wrathfully,  "do 
you  intend  to  make  me  bear  this  burden  forever?" 

"We  will  see  about  that  one  of  these  days,"  an- 
swered the  giant.  "  At  all  events,  you  ought  not  to 
complain  if  you  have  to  bear  it  the  next  hundred 
years,  or  perhaps  the  next  thousand.  I  bore  it  a  good 
while  longer,  in  spite  of  the  backache.  Well,  then, 
after  a  thousand  years,  if  I  happen  to  feel  in  the 
mood,  we  may  possibly  shift  about  again.  You  are 
certainly  a  very  strong  man,  and  can  never  have  a 
better  opportunity  to  nrove  it.  Posterity  will  talk  of 
you,  I  warrant  it." 

"  Pish !  a  fig  for  its  talk !"  cried  Hercules,  with  an- 
other hitch  of  his  shoulders.  "Just  take  the  sky 
upon  your  head  one  instant,  will  you?  I  want  to 
make  a  cushion  of  my  lion's  skin  for  the  weight  to 
rest  upon.  It  really  chafes  me,  and  will  cause  un- 
necessary inconvenience  in  so  many  centuries  as  I  am 
to  stand  here." 

"  That's  no  more  than  fair,  and  I'll  do  it,"  quoth 
the  giant,  for  he  had  no  unkind  feeling  toward  Her- 
cules, and  was  merely  acting  with  a  too  selfish  con- 
sideration of  his  own  ease.  "  For  just  five  minutes, 
then,  I'll  take  back  the  sky.     Only  for  five  minutes. 


156  THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES. 

recollect.  I  have  do  idea  of  spending  another  thou- 
sand years  as  I  spent  the  last.  Variety  is  the  spice  of 
life,  say  I." 

Ah,  the  thick-witted  old  rogue  of  a  giant!  He 
Shrew  down  the  golden  apples,  and  received  back  the 
sky  from  the  head  and  shoulders  of  Hercules  upon 
his  own,  where  it  rightly  belonged.  And  Hercules 
picked  up  the  three  golden  apples  that  were  as  big  or 
bigger  than  pumpkins,  and  straightway  set  out  on 
his  journey  homeward,  without  paying  the  slightest 
heed  to  the  thundering  tones  of  the  giant,  who  bel- 
lowed after  him  to  come  back.  Another  forest  sprang 
up  around  his  feet  and  grew  ancient  there,  and  again 
might  be  seen  oak-trees  of  six  or  seven  centuries  old, 
that  had  waxed  thus  aged  betwixt  his  enormous  toes. 

And  there  stands  the  giant  to  this  day,  or,  at  an5 
rate,  there  stands  a  mountain  as  tall  as  he  and  which 
bears  his  name;  and  when  the  thunder  rumbles  about 
its  summit  we  may  imagine  it  to  be  the  voice  of  Giant 
Atlas  bellowing  after  Hercules. 


TANGLE  WOOD  FIRESIDE. 

AFTER  THE   STORY. 


'*  Cousin"  Eustace,"  demanded  Sweet  Fern,  who 
had  been  sitting  at  the  story-teller's  feet  with  his 
mouth  wide  open,  "exactly  how  tall  was  this  giant?" 

"Oh,  Sweet  Fern,  Sweet  Fern!"  cried  the  stu- 
dent, "  do  you  think  I  was  there  to  measure  him 
with  a  yardstick?  Well,  if  you  must  know  to  a 
hair's  breadth,  I  suppose  he  might  be  from  three  to 
fifteen  miles  straight  upward,  and  that  he  might  have 
seated  himself  on  Taconic  and  had  Monument  Moun- 
tain for  a  footstool." 

"Dear  me!"  ejaculated  the  good  little  boy,  with  a 
contented  sort  of  a  grunt,  "  that  was  a  giant  sure 
enough!     And  how  long  was  his  little  finger?" 

"As  long  as  from  Tanglewood  to  the  lake,"  said 
Eustace. 

"Sure  enough  that  was  a  giant!"  repeated  Sweet 
Fern,  in  an  ecstasy  at  the  precision  of  these  measure- 
ments. "  And  how  broad,  I  wonder,  were  the  shoul- 
ders of  Hercules?" 


i58  TANGLEWOOD  FIRESIDE. 

"That  is  what  I  have  never  been  able  to  find  out," 
answered  the  student.  "  But  I  think  they  must  have 
been  a  great  deal  broader  than  mine,  or  than  your 
father's,  or  than  almost  any  shoulders  which  one  sees 
nowadays." 

"I  wish,"  whispered  Sweet  Fern,  with  his  mouth 
close  to  the  student's  ear,  "  that  you  would  tell  me 
how  big  were  some  of  the  oak-trees  that  grew  be- 
tween the  giant's  toes." 

"  They  were  bigger,"  said  Eustace,  "  than  the  great 
chestnut  tree  which  stands  beyond  Captain  Smith's 
house." 

"  Eustace, "  remarked  Mr.  Pringle,  after  some  de- 
liberation, "  I  find  it  impossible  to  express  such  an 
opinion  of  this  story  as  will  be  likely  to  gratify  in  the 
smallest  degree  your  pride  of  authorship.  Pray  let 
me  advise  you  never  more  to  meddle  with  a  classical 
myth.  Your  imagination  is  altogether  Gothic,  and 
will  inevitably  Gothicize  everything  that  you  touch. 
The  effect  is  like  bedaubing  a  marble  statue  with 
paint.  This  giant,  now !  How  can  you  have  ven- 
tured to  thrust  his  huge  disproportioned  mass 
among  the  seemly  outlines  of  Grecian  fable,  the  ten- 
dency of  which  is  to  reduce  even  the  extravagant 
within  limits  by  its  pervading  elegance?" 

"I  described  the  giant  as  he  appeared  to  me,"  re- 
plied the  student,  rather  piqued.  "  And,  sir,  if  you 
would  only  bring  your  mind  into  such  a  relation  with 


TANGLEWOOD  FIRESIDE.  159 

these  fables  as  is  necessary  in  order  to  remodel  them, 
you  would  see  at  once  that  an  old  Greek  had  no  more 
exclusive  right  to  them  than  a  modern  Yankee  has. 
They  are  the  common  property  of  the  world  and  of 
all  time.  The  ancient  poets  remodelled  them  at 
pleasure,  and  held  them  plastic  in  their  hands;  and 
why  should  they  not  be  plastic  in  my  hands  as  well?" 

Mr.  Pringle  could  not  forbear  a  smile. 

"And,  besides,"  continued  Eustace,  "the  moment 
yon  put  any  warmth  of  heart,  any  passion  or  affec- 
tion, any  human  or  fJivine  morality,  into  a  classic 
mould,  you  make  it  Xylite  another  thing  from  what  it 
was  before.  My  owi  opinion  is  that  the  Greeks,  by 
taking  possession  of  these  legends  (which  were  the 
immemorial  birthright  of  mankind)  and  putting  them 
into  shapes  of  indestructible  beauty,  indeed,  but  cold 
and  heartless,  have  done  all  subsequent  ages  an  incal- 
culable injury." 

"  Which  you,  doubtless,  were  born  to  remedy,"  said 
Mr.  Pringle,  laughing  outright.  "Well,  well,  go 
on ;  but  take  my  advice,  and  never  put  any  of  your 
travesties  on  paper.  And  as  your  next  effort,  what  if 
you  should  try  your  hand  on  some  one  of  the  legends 
of  Apollo?" 

"Ah,  sir,  you  propose  it  as  an  impossibility,"  ob- 
served the  student  after  a  moment's  meditation; 
"  and,  to  be  sure,  at  first  thought  the  idea  of  a  Gothic 
Apollo   strikes  one  rather  ludicrously.     But  I  will 


160  TANGLEWOOD  FIRESIDE. 

turn  over  your  suggestion  in  my  mind,  and  do  not 
quite  despair  of  success." 

During  the  above  discussion  the  children  (who  un- 
derstood  not  a  word  of  it)  had  grown  very  sleepy 
and  were  now  sent  off  to  bed.  Their  drowsy  babble 
was  heard  ascending  the  staircase,  while  a  northwest 
wind  roared  loudly  among  the  treetops  of  Tangle- 
wood,  and  played  an  anthem  around  the-  house. 
Eustace  Bright  went  back  to  the  study  and  again  en- 
deavored to  hammer  out  some  verses,  but  fell  asleep 
between  two  of  the  rhymes. 


THE  HILL-SIDE. 

INTRODUCTOKY  TO  "THE  MIRACULOUS 

PITCHER." 


And  when  and  where  do  you  think  we  find  the 
children  next?  No  longer  in  the  winter-time,  but  in 
the  merry  month  of  May.  !No  longer  in  Tanglewood 
play-room  or  at  Tanglewood  fireside,  but  more  than 
half-way  up  a  monstrous  hill,  or  a  mountain,  as  per- 
haps it  would  be  better  pleased  to  have  us  call  it. 
They  had  set  out  from  home  with  the  mighty  pur- 
pose of  climbing  this  high  hill  even  to  the  very  tip- 
top of  its  bald  head.  To  be  sure  it  was  not  quite  so 
high  as  Chimborazo  or  Mont  Blanc,  and  was  even 
a  good  deal  lower  than  old  Graylock.  But,  at  any 
rate,  it  was  higher  than  a  thousand  ant-hillocks  or  a 
million  of  molehills,  and  when  measured  by  the 
short  strides  of  little  children  might  be  reckoned  a 
very  respectable  mountain. 

And  was  Cousin  Eustace  with  the  party?  Of  that 
you  may  be  certain,  else  how  could  the  book  go  on  a 
11 


162  THE  HILL- SIDE. 

step  farther?  He  Tvas  now  in  the  middle  of  the 
spring  vacation,  and  looked  pretty  much  as  we  saw 
him  four  or  five  months  ago,  except  that  if  you 
gazed  quite  closely  at  his  upper  lip  you  could  discern 
the  funniest  little  bit  of  a  mustache  upon  it.  Set- 
ting aside  this  mark  of  mature  manhood,  you  might 
have  considered  Cousin  Eustace  just  as  much  a  boy 
as  when  you  first  became  acquainted  with  him.  He 
was  as  merry,  as  jDlayful,  as  good-humored,  as  light 
of  foot  and  of  spirits,  and  equally  a  favorite  with  the 
little  folks  as  he  had  always  been.  This  expedition 
up  the  mountain  was  entirely  of  his  contrivance.  All 
the  way  up  the  steep  ascent  he  had  encouraged  the 
elder  children  with  his  cheerful  voice,  and  when 
Dandelion,  Cowslip,  and  Squash-blossom  grew 
weary  he  had  lugged  them  along,  alternately,  on  his 
back.  In  this  manner  they  had  passed  through  the 
orchards  and  pastures  on  the  lower  part  of  the  hill, 
and  had  reached  the  wood  which  extends  thence 
toward  its  bare  summit. 

The  month  of  May  thus  far  had  been  more  amiable 
than  it  often  is,  and  this  was  as  sweet  and  genial  a 
day  as  the  heart  of  man  or  child  could  wish.  In  their 
progress  up  the  hill  the  small  people  had  found 
enough  of  violets,  blue  and  white,  and  some  that 
were  as  golden  as  if  they  had  the  touch  of  Midas  on 
them.  That  sociablest  of  flowers,  the  little  Housa- 
tonia,  was  very  abundant.     It  is  a  flower  that  never 


THE  HILL-SIDE.  i63 

lives  alone,  bnt  which  loves  its  own  kind,  and  is  al- 
ways fond  of  dwelling  with  a  great  many  friends  and 
relatives  around  it.  Sometimes  you  see  a  family  of 
them  covering  a  space  no  bigger  than  the  palm  of 
your  hand,  and  sometimes  a  large  community  whiten- 
ing a  whole  tract  of  pasture  and  all  keeping  one  an- 
other in  cheerful  heart  and  life. 

Within  the  verge  of  the  wood  there  were  colum- 
bines, looking  more  pale  than  red,  because  they  were 
so  modest,  and  had  thought  proper  to  seclude  them- 
selves too  anxiously  from  the  sun.  There  were  wild 
geraniums,  too,  and  a  thousand  white  blossoms  of 
the  strawberry.  The  trailing  arbutus  was  not  yet 
quite  out  of  bloom,  but  it  hid  its  precious  flowers 
under  the  last  year's  withered  forest-leaves  as  carefully 
as  a  mother-bird  hides  its  little  young  ones.  It 
knew,  I  suppose,  how  beautiful  and  sweet-scemted 
they  were.  So  cunning  was  their  concealment  that 
the  children  sometimes  smelled  the  delicate  richness  of 
their  perfume  before  they  knew  whence  it  proceeded. 

Amid  so  much  new  life  it  was  strange  and  truly 
pitii!ul  to  behold  here  and  there,  in  the  fields  and 
pastures,  the  hoary  periwigs  of  dandelions  that  had 
already  gone  to  seed.  They  had  done  with  summer 
before  the  summer  came.  Within  those  small  globes 
oJ:  winged  seeds  it  was  autumn  now. 

Well,  but  we  must  not  waste  our  valuable  pages 
with  any  more  talk  about  the  springtime  and  wild 


164  THE  HILL-SIDE. 

flowers.  There  is  something,  we  hope,  more  interest- 
ing to  be  talked  about.  If  you  look  at  the  group  of 
children,  you  may  see  them  all  gathered  around  Eus- 
tace Bright,  who,  sitting  on  the  stump  of  a  tree, 
seems  to  be  just  beginning  a  story.  The  fact  is,  the 
younger  part  of  the  troop  have  found  out  ohat  it 
takes  rather  too  many  of  their  short  strides  to  meas- 
ure the  long  ascent  of  the  hill.  Cousin  EustacCj 
therefore,  has  decided  to  leave  Sweet  Fern,  Cowslip, 
Squash-blossom,  and  Dandelion  at  this  point,  midway 
up,  until  the  return  of  the  rest  of  the  party  from  the 
summit.  And  because  they  complain  a  little  and  do 
not  quite  like  to  stay  behind,  he  gives  them  some  ap- 
ples out  of  his  pocket  and  proposes  to  tell  them  a 
very  pretty  story.  Hereupon  they  brighten  up  and 
change  their  grieved  looks  into  the  broadest  kind  of 
smiles. 

As  for  the  story,  I  was  there  to  hear  it,  hidden  be- 
hind a  bush,  and  shall  tell  it  over  to  you  in  the  pages 
that  come  next. 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER 


One  evening,  in  times  long  ago,  old  Philemon  and 
his  old  wife  Baucis  sat  at  their  cottage  door  enjoying 
the  calm  and  beautiful  sunset.  They  had  already 
eaten  their  frugal  supper,  and  intended  now  to  spend 
a  quiet  hour  or  two  before  bedtime.  So  they  talked 
together  about  their  garden  and  their  cow  and  their 
bees  and  their  grapevine  which  clambered  over  the 
cottage  wall,  and  on  which  the  grapes  were  begin- 
ning to  turn  purple.  But  the  rude  shouts  of  chil- 
dren and  the  fierce  barking  of  dogs  in  the  village 
near  at  hand  grew  louder  and  louder,  until  at  last  it 
was  hardly  possible  for  Baucis  and  Philemon  to  hear 
each  other  speak. 

"Ah,  wife,"  cried  Philemon,  "I  fear  some  poor 
traveller  is  seeking  hospitality  among  our  neighbors 
yonder,  and  instead  of  giving  him  food  and  lodging 
they  have  set  their  dogs  at  him,  as  their  custom  is!" 

" Well-a-day !"  answered  old  Baucis;  "I  do  wish 
our  neighbors  felt  a  little  more  kindness  for  their 
fellow-creatures.     And   only  think   of  bringing   up 


166  THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER. 

their  children  in  this  naughty  way,  and  patting 
them  on  the  head  when  they  fling  stones  at  strangers !" 

"Those  children  will  never  come  to  any  good," 
said  Philemon,  shaking  his  white  head.  "To  tell 
you  the  truth,  wife,  I  should  not  wonder  if  some  ter- 
rible thing  were  to  happen  to  all  the  people  in  the 
village  unless  they  mend  their  manners.  But  as  for 
you  and  me,  so  long  as  Providence  affords  us  a  crust 
of  bread  let  us  be  ready  to  give  half  to  any  poor, 
homeless  stranger  that  may  come  along  and  need  it." 

"That's  right,  husband!"  said  Baucis.  "So  we 
will." 

These  old  folks,  you  must  know,  were  quite  poor, 
and  had  to  work  pretty  hard  for  a  living.  Old  Phil- 
emon toiled  diligently  in  his  garden,  while  Baucis 
was  always  busy  with  her  distaff,  or  making  a  little 
butter  and  cheese  with  their  cow's  milk,  or  doing  one 
thing  or  another  about  the  cottage.  Their  food  was 
seldom  anything  but  bread,  milk,  and  vegetables, 
with  sometimes  a  portion  of  honey  from  their  bee- 
hive, and  now  and  then  a  bunch  of  grapes  that  had 
ripened  against  the  cottage  wall.  But  they  were 
two  of  the  kindest  old  people  in  the  world,  and  would 
cheerfully  have  gone  without  their  dinners  any  day 
rather  than  refuse  a  slice  of  their  brown  loaf,  a  cup 
of  new  milk,  and  a  spoonful  of  honey  to  the  weary 
traveller  who  might  pause  before  their  door.  They 
felt  as  if  such  guests  had  a  sort  of  holiness,  and  that 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER.  16? 

they  therefore  ought  to  treat  them  better  and  more 
bountifully  than  their  own  selves. 

Their  cottage  stood  on  a  rising  ground  at  some  short 
distance  from  a  village  which  lay  in  a  hollow  valley, 
that  was  about  half  a  mile  in  breatdh.  This  valley, 
in  past  ages  when  the  world  was  new,  had  probably 
been  the  bed  of  a  lake.  There  fishes  had  glided  to 
and  fro  in  the  depths,  and  water-weeds  had  grown 
along  the  margin,  and  trees  and  hills  had  seen  their 
reflected  images  in  the  broad  and  peaceful  mirror. 
But  as  the  waters  subsided  men  had  cultivated  the 
Boil  and  built  houses  on  it,  so  that  it  was  now  a  fer- 
tile spot,  and  bore  no  traces  of  the  ancient  lake  ex- 
cept a  very  small  brook,  which  meandered  through 
the  midst  of  the  village  and  supplied  the  inhabitants 
with  water.  The  valley  had  been  dry  land  so  long 
that  oaks  had  sprung  up  and  grown  great  and  high, 
and  perished  with  old  age,  and  been  succeeded  by 
others  as  tall  and  stately  as  the  first.  Never  was 
there  a  prettier  or  more  fruitful  valley.  The  very 
sight  of  the  plenty  around  them  should  have  made 
the  inhabitants  kind  and  gentle  and  ready  to  shov\^ 
their  gratitude  to  Providence  by  doing  good  to  their 
fellow-creatures. 

But,  we  are  sorry  to  say,  the  people  of  this  lovely 
village  were  not  worthy  to  dwell  in  a  spot  on  which 
heaven  had  smiled  so  beneficently.  They  were  a 
?ery  selfish    and   hardhearted    people,    and    had  no 


168  THE  MIRACJLOUS  PITCHER. 

pity  for  the  poor  nor  sympathy  with  the  homeless. 
They  would  only  have  laughed  had  anybody  told 
them  that  human  beings  owe  a  debt  of  love  to  one 
another,  becanse  there  is  no  other  method  of  paying 
the  debt  of  love  and  care  which  all  of  ns  owe  to  Prov- 
idence. You  will  hardly  believe  what  I  am  going  to 
tell  you.  These  naughty  people  taught  their  chil- 
dren to  be  no  better  than  themselves,  and  used  to 
clap  their  hands  by  way  of  encouragement  when  they 
saw  the  little  boys  and  girls  run  after  some  poor 
stranger,  shouting  at  his  heels  and  pelting  him  with 
stones.  They  kept  large  and  fierce  dogs,  and  when- 
ever a  traveller  ventured  to  show  himself  in  the  vil- 
lage street  this  pack  of  disagreeable  curs  scampered  to 
meet  him,  barking,  snarling,  and  showing  their  teeth. 
Then  they  would  seize  him  by  the  leg  or  by  the 
clothes,  just  as  it  happened;  and,  if  he  were  ragged 
when  he  came,  he  was  generally  a  pitiable  object  be- 
fore he  had  time  to  run  away.  This  was  a  very  ter- 
rible thing  to  poor  travellers,  as  you  may  suppose, 
especially  when  they  chanced  to  be  sick  or  feeble  or 
lame  or  old.  Such  persons  (if  they  once  knew  how 
badly  these  unkind  people  and  their  unkind  children 
and  curs  were  in  the  habit  of  behaving)  would  go 
miles  and  miles  out  of  their  way  rather  than  try  to 
pass  through  the  village  again. 

What  made  the  matter  seem  worse,  if  possible,  was 
that  when  rich  persons  came  in  their  chariots  or  rid* 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER.  169 

ing  on  beautiful  horses,  with  their  servants  in  rich 
liveries  attending  on  them,  nobody  could  be  more 
civil  and  obsequious  than  the  inhabitants  of  the  vil- 
lage. They  would  take  oil  their  hats  and  make  the 
humblest  bows  vou  ever  saw.  If  the  children  were 
rude,  they  were  pretty  certain  to  get  their  ears  boxed ; 
and  as  for  the  dogs,  if  a  single  cur  in  the  pack  pre- 
sumed to  yelp,  his  master  instantly  beat  him  with  a 
club  and  tied  him  up  without  any  supper.  This 
would  have  been  all  very  well,  only  it  proved  that  the 
villagers  cared  much  about  the  money  that  a  stranger 
had  in  his  pocket,  and  nothing  whatever  for  the  hu- 
man soul,  which  lives  equally  in  the  beggar  and  the 
prince. 

So  now  yon  can  understand  why  old  Philemon 
spoke  so  sorrowfully  when  he  heard  the  shouts  of  the 
children  and  the  barking  of  the  dogs  at  the  farther 
extremity  of  the  village  street.  There  was  a  con- 
fused din,  which  lasted  a  good  while  and  seemed  to 
pass  quite  through  the  breadth  of  the  valley. 

"I  never  heard  the  dogs  so  loud,"  observed  the 
good  old  man. 

"Nor  the  children  so  rude,"  answered  his  good  old 
wife. 

They  sat  shaking  their  heads  one  to  another  while 
the  noise  came  nearer  and  nearer,  until,  at  the 
foot  of  the  little  eminence  on  which  their  cottage 
stood,  they  saw  two  travellers  approaching  on  foot. 


170  THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER. 

Close  behind  them  came  the  fierce  dogs  snarling  at 
their  very  heels.  A  little  farther  off  ran  a  crowd  of 
children,  who  sent  up  shrill  cries  and  flung  stones  at 
the  two  strangers  with  all  their  might.  Once  or 
twice  the  younger  of  the  two  men  (he  was  a  slender 
and  very  active  figure)  turned  about  and  drove  back 
the  dogs  with  a  staff  which  he  carried  in  his  hand. 
His  companion,  who  w\as  a  very  tall  person,  walked 
calmly  along,  as  if  disdaining  to  notice  either  the 
naughty  children  or  the  pack  of  curs  w^hose  manners 
the  children  seemed  to  imitate. 

Both  of  the  travellers  were  very  humbly  clad,  and 
looked  as  if  they  might  not  have  money  enough  in 
their  pockets  to  pay  for  a  night's  lodging.  And  this, 
I  am  afraid,  was  the  reason  why  the  villagers  had  al- 
lowed their  children  and  dogs  to  treat  them  so 
rudely. 

"  Come,  wife,"  said  Philemon  to  Baucis,  "  let  us  go 
and  meet  these  poor  people.  No  doubt  they  feel  al- 
most too  heavy-hearted  to  climb  the  hill." 

"  Go  you  and  meet  them,"  answered  Baucis,  "  while 
I  make  haste  within  doors  and  see  whether  we  can 
get  them  anything  for  supper.  A  comfortable  bowd 
of  bread  and  milk  would  do  wonders  toward  raising 
their  spirits." 

Accordingly  she  hastened  into  the  cottage.  Phile- 
mon, on  his  part,  went  forward  and  extended  his 
hand  with  so  hospitable  an  aspect  that  there  was  no 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER.  171 

need  of  saying — what,  nevertheless,  he  did  say,  in 
the  heartiest  tone  imaginable: 

"Welcome,  strangers!   welcome!" 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  the  younger  of  the  two,  in  a 
lively  kind  of  way,  notwithstanding  his  weariness 
and  trouble.  "  This  is  quite  another  greeting  than, 
we  have  met  with  yonder  in  the  village.  Pray-,  why 
do  you  live  in  such  a  bad  neighborhood?" 

"Ah!"  observed  old  Philemon,  with  a  quiet  and  be- 
nign smile,  "  Providence  put  me  here,  I  hope,  among 
other  reasons,  in  order  that  I  may  make  what  amends 
I  can  for  the  inhospitality  of  my  neighbors." 

"  Well  said,  old  father,"  cried  the  traveller,  ^augh- 
ing;  "and,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  my  companion 
and  myself  need  some  amends.  Those  children  (the 
little  rascals!)  have  bespattered  us  finely  with  their 
mud  balls,  and  one  of  the  curs  has  torn  my  cloak, 
which  was  ragged  enough  already.  But  I  took  him 
across  the  muzzle  with  my  staff,  and  I  think  you  may 
have  heard  him  yelp  even  thus  far  off. " 

Philemon  was  glad  to  see  him  in  such  good  spirits; 
nor,  indeed,  would  you  have  fancied  by  the  travel- 
ler's look  and  manner  that  he  was  weary  with  a  long 
day's  journey,  besides  being  disheartened  by  rough 
treatment  at  the  end  of  it.  He  was  dressed  in  rather 
an  odd  way,  with  a  sort  of  cap  on  his  head,  the  brim 
of  which  stuck  out  over  both  ears.  Though  it  vras  a 
summer   evening,  he  wore  a  cloak,  which   he    kept 


r.2  THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER. 

wrapped  closely  about  Mm,  perhaps  because  bis  under- 
garments were  shabby.  Philemon  perceived,  too, 
that  he  had  on  a  singular  pair  of  shoes ;  but  as  it  was 
now  growing  dusk,  and  as  the  old  man's  eyesight  was 
none  the  sharpest,  he  could  not  precisely  tell  in  what 
the  strangeness  consisted.  One  thing  certainly  seemed 
queer:  the  traveller  was  so  wonderfully  light  and 
active  that  it  appeared  as  if  his  feet  sometimes  rose 
from  the  ground  of  their  own  accord  or  could  only  be 
kept  down  by  an  effort. 

•'I  used  to  be  lightfooted  in  my  youth,"  said  Phil- 
emon to  the  traveller,  "but  I  always  found  my  feet 
grow  heavier  toward  nightfall." 

"  There  is  nothing  like  a  good  staff  to  help  one 
along,"  answered  the  stranger;  *'and  I  happen  to 
have  an  excellent  one,  as  you  see." 

The  staff,  in  fact,  was  the  oddest-looking  staff  that 
Philemon  had  ever  beheld.  It  was  made  of  olive- 
wood,  and  had  something  like  a  little  pair  of  wings 
near  the  top.  Two  snakes  carved  in  the  wood  were 
represented  as  twining  themselves  about  the  staff,  and 
were  so  very  skilfully  executed  that  old  Philemon 
(whose  eyes,  you  know,  were  getting  rather  dim)  al- 
most thought  them  alive,  and  that  he  could  see  them 
^rrioforlinor  and  twisting. 

"A  curious  piece  of  work,  sure  enough!"  said  he. 
**A  staff  with  winofs!  It  would  be  an  excellent  kind 
of  stick  for  a  little  boy  to  ride  astride  of." 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER.  173 

By  this  time  Philemon  and  his  two  guests  had 
reached  the  cottage  door. 

"Friends,"  said  the  old  man,  "sit  down  and  rest 
yourselves  here  on  this  bench.  My  good  wife  Baucis 
has  gone  to  see  what  you  can  have  for  supper.  We 
are  poor  folks,  but  you  shall  be  welcome  to  whatever 
we  have  in  the  cupboard." 

The  younger  stranger  threw  himself  carelessly  on 
the  bench,  letting  his  stafi  fall  as  he  did  so.  And 
here  happened  something  rather  marvellous,  though 
trifling  enough  too.  The  staff  seemed  to  get  up  from 
the  ground  of  its  own  accord,  and,  spreading  its  little 
pair  of  wings,  it  half-hopped,  half-flew,  and  leaned 
itself  against  the  wall  of  the  cottage.  There  it  stood 
quite  still,  except  that  the  snakes  contnued  to  wrig- 
gle. But,  in  my  private  opinion,  old  Philemon's  eye- 
sight had  been  playing  him  tricks  again. 

Before  he  could  ask  any  questions  the  elder  stran- 
ger drew  his  attention  from  the  wonderful  staff  by 
speaking  to  him. 

"  Was  there  not,"  asked  the  stranger  in  a  remark- 
ably deep  tone  of  voice,  "a  lake,  in  very  ancient 
times,  covering  the  spot  where  now  stands  yonder 
village?" 

"Not  in  my  day,  friend,"  answered  Philemon, 
"and  yet  I  am  an  old  man,  as  you  see.  There  were 
always  the  fields  and  meadows  just  as  they  are  now, 
and  the  old  trees,  and  the  little  stream  murmuring 


174  THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER. 

through  the  midst  of  the  valley.  My  father,  nor  his 
father  before  him,  ever  saw  it  otherwise,  so  far  as  I 
know,  and  doubtless  it  will  still  be  the  same  when 
old  Philemon  shall  be  gone  and  forgotten." 

"That  is  more  than  can  safely  be  foretold,"  ob- 
served the  stranger;  and  there  was  something  very 
stern  in  his  deep  voice.  He  shook  his  head,  too,  so 
that  his  dark  and  heavy  curls  were  shaken  with  the 
movement.  "  Since  the  inhabitants  of  yonder  village 
have  forgotten  the  affections  and  .sympathies  of  their 
nature,  it  were  better  that  the  lake  shoi^ild  be  rippling 
over  their  dwellings  again." 

The  traveller  looked  so  stern  that  Philemon  was 
really  almost  frightened;  the  more  so,  that  at  his 
frown  the  twilight  seemed  suddenly  to  grow  darker, 
and  that  when  he  shook  his  head  there  was  a  roll  as 
of  thunder  in  the  air. 

But  in  a  moment  afterward  the  stranger's  face  t)e- 
came  so  kindly  and  mild  that  the  old  man  quite  for- 
got his  terror.  Nevertheless,  he  could  not  help  feel- 
ing that  this  elder  traveller  must  be  no  ordinary  per- 
sonage, although  he  happened  now  to  be  attired  so 
humbly  and  to  be  journeying  on  foot.  Not  that 
Philemon  fancied  him  a  prince  in  disguise  or  any 
character  of  that  sort,  but  rather  some  exceedingly 
wise  man  who  went  about  the  world  in  this  poor  garb, 
despising  wealth  and  all  worldly  objects,  and  seeking 
everywhere  to  add  a  mite  to  his  wisdom.     This  idea 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER.  175 

appeared  the  more  probable  because,  when  Philemon 
raised  his  eyes  to  the  stranger's  face,  he  seemed  to 
see  more  thought  there  in  one  look  than  he  could 
have  studied  out  in  a  lifetime. 

While  Baucis  was  getting  the  supper  the  travellers 
both  began  to  talk  ver}"  sociably  with  Philemon.  The 
younger,  indeed,  was  extremely  loquacious,  and  made 
such  shrewd  and  witty  remarks  that  the  good  old  man 
continually  burst  out  a-laughing,  and  pronounced 
him  the  merriest  fellow  whom  he  had  seen  for  many 
a  day. 

"Pray,  my  young  friend,"  said  he  as  they  grew 
familiar  together,  "what  may  I  call  your  name?" 

"Why,  I  am  very  nimble,  as  you  see,"  answered 
the  traveller.  "  So  if  you  call  me  Quicksilver  th3 
name  will  fit  tolerablv  well." 

"Quicksilver?  Quicksilver?"  repeated  Philemon,, 
jooking  in  the  traveller's  face  to  see  if  he  were  mak- 
ing fun  of  him.  "It  is  a  very  odd  name.  And  your 
companion  there?     Has  he  as  strange  a  one?" 

"  You  must  ask  the  tliiinder  to  tell  you,"  replied 
Quicksilver,  putting  on  a  mysterious  look.  "  No 
other  voice  is  loud  enough." 

This  remark,  whether  it  were  serious  or  in  Jest, 
might  have  caused  Philemon  to  conceive  a  very  great 
awe  of  the  elder  stranger  if,  on  venturing  to  gaze 
on  him,  he  had  not  beheld  so  much  beneficence 
in  his  visage.       But,    undoubtedly,   here  was    the 


176  THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER. 

grandest  figure  that  ever  sat  so  humbly  beside  a  cot- 
tage door.  When  the  stranger  conversed  it  was  with 
gravity,  and  in  such  a  way  that  Philemon  felt  irre- 
sistibly moved  to  tell  him  everything  which  he  had 
most  at  heart.  This  is  always  the  feeling  that  people 
have  when  they  meet  with  any  one  wise  enough  to 
comprehend  all  their  good  and  evil  and  to  despise 
not  a  tittle  of  it. 

But  Philemon,  simple  and  kind-hearted  old  man 
that  he  was,  had  not  many  secrets  to  disclose.  He 
talked,  however,  quite  garrulously  about  the  events 
of  his  past  life,  in  the  whole  course  of  which  he  had 
never  been  a  score  of  miles  from  this  very  spot.  His 
wife  Baucis  and  himself  had  dwelt  in  the  cottage 
from  their  youth  upward,  earning  their  bread  by 
honest  labor,  always  poor  but  still  contented.  He 
told  what  excellent  butter  and  cheese  Baucis  made, 
and  how  nice  were  the  vegetables  which  he  raised  in 
his  g:arden.  He  said,  too,  that  because  they  loved 
one  another  so  very  much,  it  was  the  wish  of  both 
that  death  might  not  separate  them,  but  that  they 
should  die,  as  they  had  lived,  together. 

As  the  stranger  listened  a  smile  beamed  over  his 
countenance  and  made  its  expression  as  sweet  as  it 
was  grand. 

"You  are  a  good  old  man,"  said  he  to  Philemon, 
"  and  you  have  a  good  old  wife  to  be  your  helpmeet. 
It  is  fit  that  your  wish  be  granted." 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER.  177 

And  it  seemed  to  Philemon  just  then  as  if  the  sun- 
set clouds  threw  up  a  bright  flash  from  the  west  and 
kindled  a  sudden  light  in  the  sky. 

Baucis  had  now  got  supper  ready,  and,  coming  to 
the  door,  began  to  make  apologies  for  the  poor  fare 
which  she  was  forced  to  set  before  her  guests. 

"Had  we  known  you  were  coming,"  said  she,  "my 
good  man  and  myself  would  have  gone  without  a 
morsel  rather  than  you  should  lack  a  better  supper. 
But  I  took  the  most  part  of  to-day's  milk  to  make 
cheese,  and  our  last  loaf  is  already  half-eaten.  Ah, 
me!  I  never  feel  the  sorrow  of  being  poor  save  when 
a  poor  traveller  knocks  at  our  door." 

"  All  will  be  very  well ;  do  not  trouble  yourself,  my 
good  dame,"  replied  the  elder  stranger,  kindly. 
"An  honest,  hearty  welcome  to  a  guest  works  mir- 
acles with  the  fare,  and  is  capable  of  turning  the 
coarsest  food  to  nectar  and  ambrosia." 

"A  welcome  you  shall  have,"  cried  Baucis,  "and 
likewise  a  little  honey  that  we  happen  to  have  left, 
and  a  bunch  of  purple  grapes  besides." 

"Why,  Mother  Baucis,  it  is  a  feast!"  exclaimed 
Quicksilver,  laughing;  "an  absolute  feast!  and  yon 
shall  see  how  bravely  I  will  play  my  part  at  it.  I 
think  I  never  felt  hungrier  in  my  life." 

"Mercy  on  us!"  whispered  Baucis  to  her  husband. 
"  If  the  young  man  has  such  a  terrible  appetite,  I  am 
afraid  there  will  not  be  half  enough  supper. " 
12 


178  THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER. 

They  all  went  into  the  cottage. 

And  now,  my  little  auditors,  shall  I  tell  you  some* 
thing  that  will  make  you  open  your  eyes  very  wide? 
It  is  really  one  of  the  oddest  circumstances  in  the 
whole  story.  Quicksilver's  staff,  you  recollect,  had 
set  itself  up  against  the  wall  of  the  cottage.  Well, 
when  its  master  entered  the  door,  leaving  this  won- 
derful staff  behind,  what  should  it  do  but  immedi- 
ately spread  its  little  wings  and  go  hopping  and  flut- 
tering up  the  doorsteps!  Tap,  tap,  went  the  staff  on 
the  kitchen  floor;  nor  did  it  rest  until  it  had  stood 
itself  on  end,  with  the  greatest  gravity  and  decorum, 
beside  Quicksilver's  chair.  Old  Philemon,  however, 
as  well  as  his  wife,  was  so  taken  up  in  attending  to 
their  guests  that  no  notice  was  given  to  what  the 
staff  had  been  about. 

As  Baucis  had  said,  there  was  but  a  scanty  supper 
for  two  hungry  travellers.  In  the  middle  of  the  table 
was  the  remnant  of  a  brown  loaf,  with  apiece  of  cheese 
.on  one  side  of  it  and  a  dish  of  honeycomb  on  the 
other.  There  was  a  pretty  good  bunch  of  grapes 
for  each  of  the  guests.  A  moderately  sized  earthen 
pitcher  nearly  full  of  milk  stood  at  a  corner  of 
the  board,  and  when  Baucis  had  fllled  two  bowls 
and  set  them  before  the  strangers  only  a  little  milk 
remained  in  the  bottom  of  the  pitcher.  Alas!  it 
is  a  very  sad  business  when  a  bountiful  heart  finds 
Itself  pinched  and  squeezed   among  narrow  circum- 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER.  179 

s/;ances.  Poor  Baucis  kept  wishing  that  she  might 
s';arve  for  a  week  to  come,  if  it  were  possible  by  so 
doing,  to  provide  these  hungry  folks  a  more  plentiful 
sapper. 

And,  since   the  snpper  w^as  so  exceedingly  small,. 
she  could  not  help  wishing  that  their  appetites  had 
not  been  quite  so  large.     Why,  at  their  very  first  sit- 
tino:  down  the  travellers  both  drank  off  all  the  milk 
in  their  two  bowls  at  a  draught. 

"A  little  more  milk,  kind  Mother  Baucis,  if  yon 
please,"  said  Quicksilver.  "The  day  has  been  hot 
and  I  am  very  much  athirst." 

"Now,  my  dear  people,"  answered  Baucis,  in  great 
confusion,  "  I  am  so  sorry  and  ashamed !  But  the 
ti'uth  is,  there  is  hardly  a  drop  more  milk  in  the 
pitcher.  Oh,  husband!  husband!  why  didn't  we  go 
without  our  supper?" 

"Why,  it  appears  to  me,"  cried  Quicksilver,  start- 
ing up  from  table  and  taking  the  pitcher  by  the 
handle, — "  it  really  appears  to  me  that  matters  are 
not  quite  so  bad  as  you  represent  them.  Here  is 
certainly  more  milk  in  the  pitcher." 

So  saying,  and  to  the  vast  astonishment  of  Baucis, 
he  proceeded  to  fill  not  only  his  own  bowl,  but  his 
companion's  likewise,  from  the  pitcher  that  was  sup- 
posed to  be  almost  empty.  The  good  woman  could 
scarcely  believe  her  eyes.  She  had  certainly  poured 
out  nearly  all  the  milk,  and  had  peeped  in  afterward 


ISO  THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER. 

and  seen  the  bottom  of  the  pitcher  as  she  set  it  down 
npou  the  table. 

"But  I  am  old,"  thought  Baucis  to  herself,  "and 
apt  to  be  forgetful.  I  suppose  I  must  have  made  a 
mistake.  At  all  events,  the  pitcher  cannot  help 
being  empty  now,  after  filling  the  bowls  twice  over." 

"  What  excellent  milk !"  observed  Quicksilver, 
after  quaffing  the  contents  of  the  second  bowl. 
"  Excuse  me,  my  kind  hostess,  but  I  must  really  ask 
you  for  a  little  more." 

Now,  Baucis  had  seen,  as  plainly  as  she  could  see 
anything,  that  Quicksilver  had  turned  the  pitcher 
upside  down,  and  consequently  had  poured  out  every 
drop  of  milk  in  filling  the  last  bowl.  Of  course  there 
could  not  possibly  be  any  left.  However,  in  order  to 
let  him  know  precisely  how  the  case  was,  she  lifted 
the  pitcher  and  made  a  gesture  as  if  pouring  milk 
into  Quicksilver's  bowl,  but  without  the  remotest  idea 
that  any  milk  would  stream  forth.  What  was  her 
surprise,  therefore,  when  such  an  abundant  cascade 
tell  bubbling  into  the  bowl  that  it  was  immediately 
filled  to  the  brim  and  overflowed  upon  the  table! 
The  two  snakes  that  were  twisted  about  Quicksilver's 
staff  (but  neither  Baucis  nor  Philemon  happened  to 
observe  this  circumstance)  stretched  out  their  heads 
and  began  to  lap  up  the  spilt  milk. 

And  then  what  a  delicious  fragrance  the  milk  had! 
It  seemed  as  if  Philemon's  only  cow  must  have  pas- 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER.  .  181 

tured  that  day  on  the  richest  herbage  that  could  be 
found  anywhere  in  the  world.  I  only  wish  that  each 
of  you,  my  beloved  little  souls,  could  have  a  bowl  of 
such  nice  milk  at  supper-time! 

"And  now  a  slice  of  your  brown  loaf,  Mother 
Baucis,"  said  Quicksilver,  "and  a  little  of  that 
honey." 

Baucis  cut  him  a  slice  accordingly;  and  though 
the  loaf,  when  she  and  her  husband  ate  of  it,  had 
been  rather  too  dry  and  crusty  to  be  palatable,  it  was 
now  as  light  and  moist  as  if  but  a  few  hours  out  of 
the  oven.  Tasting  a  crumb  which  had  fallen  on  the 
table,  she  found  it  more  delicious  than  bread  ever 
was  before,  and  could  hardly  believe  that  it  was  a  loaf 
of  her  kneading  and  baking.  Yet  what  other  loaf 
could  it  possibly  be? 

But  oh,  the  honey!  I  may  just  as  well  let  it  alone, 
without  trying  to  describe  how  exquisitely  it  smelt 
and  looked.  Its  color  was  that  of  the  purest  and 
most  transparent  gold,  and  it  had  the  odor  of  a  thou- 
sand flowers,  but  of  such  flowers  as  never  grew  in  an 
earthly  garden,  and  to  seek  which  the  bees  must  have 
flown  above  the  clouds.  The  wonder  is  that,  after 
alighting  on  a  flower-bed  of  so  delicious  fragrance 
and  immortal  bloom,  they  should  have  been  content 
to  fly  down  again  to  their  hive  in  Philemon's  garden. 
Never  was  such  honey  tasted,  seen,  or  smelt.  The 
perfume  floated  around  the  kitchen,  and  made  it  so 


182  THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER. 

delightful  that,  had  you  closed  your  eyes,  you  would 
instantly  have  forgotten  the  low  ceiling  and  smoky 
walls,  and  have  fancied  yourself  in  an  arbor  with 
celestial  honeysuckles  creeping  over  it. 

Although  good  Mother  Baucis  was  a  simple  old 
dame,  she  could  not  but  think  that  there  was  some- 
thing rather  out  of  the  common  way  in  all  that  had 
been  going  on.  So,  after  helping  the  guests  to  bread 
and  honey  and  laying  a  bunch  of  grapes  by  each  of 
their  plates,  she  sat  down  by  Philemon  and  told  him 
what  she  had  seen  in  a  whisper. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  the  like?"  asked  she. 

"No,  I  never  did,"  answered  Philemon,  with  a 
smile.  "  And  I  rather  think,  my  dear  old  wife,  you 
have  been  walking  about  in  a  sort  of  a  dream.  If  I 
had  poured  out  the  milk,  I  should  have  seen  through 
the  business  at  once.  There  happened  to  be  a  little 
more  in  the  pitcher  than  you  thought — that  is  all." 

"Ah,  husband,"  said  Baucis,  "say  what  you  will, 
these  are  very  uncommon  people." 

"Well,  well,"  replied  Philemon,  still  smiling, 
"  perhaps  they  are.  They  certainly  do  look  as  if  they 
had  seen  better  days,  and  I  am  heartily  glad  to  see 
them  making  so  comfortable  a  supper." 

Each  of  the  guests  had  now  taken  his  bunch  of 
grapes  upon  his  plate.  Baucis  (who  rubbed  her  eyes 
in  order  to  see  the  more  clearly)  was  of  opinion  that 
the  clusters  had  grown  larger  and  richer,  and  that 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER.  183 

e'ich  separate  grape  seemed  to  be  on  the  point  of 
bursting  with  ripe  juice.  It  was  entirely  a  mystery 
to  her  how  such  grapes  could  ever  have  been  produced 
from  the  old  stunted  vine  that  climbed  against  the 
cottage-wall. 

"Very  admirable  grapes,  these!"  observed  Quick- 
s*Uver,  as  he  swallowed  one  after  another  without 
apparently  diminishing  his  cluster.  "  Pray,  my  good 
host,  whence  did  you  gather  them?" 

"  From  my  own  vine,"  answered  Philemon.  "  You 
may  see  one  of  its  branches  twisting  across  the  win- 
dow yonder.  But  wife  and  I  never  thought  the 
grapes  very  fine  ones." 

*'  I  never  tasted  better,"  said  the  guest.  "  Another 
cap  of  this  delicious  milk,  if  you  please,  and  I  shall 
then  have  supped  better  than  a  prince." 

This  time  old  Philemon  bestirred  himself  and  took 
up  the  pitcher,  for  he  was  curious  to  discover  whether 
there  was  any  reality  in  the  marvels  which  Baucis  had 
whispered  to  him.  He  knew  that  his  good  old  wife 
was  incapable  of  falsehood,  and  that  she  was  seldom 
mistaken  in  what  she  supposed  to  be  true;  but  this 
was  so  very  singular  a  case  that  he  wanted  to  see  into 
it  with  his  own  eyes.  On  taking  up  the  pitcher, 
tlierefore,  he  slyly  peeped  into  it,  and  was  fully  satis- 
fied that  it  contained  not  so  much  as  a  siugle  drop. 
AW  at  once,  however,  he  beheld  a  little  white  foun- 
tain, which  gushed  up  from  the  bottom  of  the  pitcher 


184  THE  MIRACULOCfS  PITCHER. 

and  speedily  filled  it  to  the  brim  with  foaming  and 
deliciously  fragrant  milk.  It  was  lucky  that  Phile- 
mon, in  his  surprise,  did  not  drop  the  miraculous 
pitcher  from  his  hand. 

"Who  are  ye,  wonder-working  strangers?"  cried 
he,  even  more  bewildered  than  his  wife  had  been. 

"Your  guests,  my  good  Philemon,  and  your 
friends,"  replied  the  elder  traveller,  in  his  mild,  deep 
voice  that  had  something  at  once  sweet  and  awe- 
inspiring  in  it.  "  Give  me  likewise  a  cup  of  the 
milk;  and  may  your  pitcher  never  be  empty  for  kind 
Baucis  and  yourself,  any  more  than  for  the  needy 
wavfarer !" 

The  supper  being  now  over,  the  strangers  requested 
to  be  shown  to  their  place  of  repose.  The  old  people 
would  gladly  have  talked  with  them  a  little  longer, 
and  have  expressed  the  wonder  which  they  felt,  and 
their  delight  at  finding  the  poor  and  meagre  supper 
prove  so  much  better  and  more  abundant  than  they 
'''oped.  But  the  elder  traveller  had  inspired  them 
with  such  reverence  that  they  dared  not  ask  him  any 
questions.  And  when  Philemon  drew  Quicksilver 
aside  and  inquired  how  under  the  sun  a  fountain  of 
milk  could  have  got  into  an  old  earthen  pitcher,  this 
latter  personage  pointed  to  his  staff. 

*'  There  is  the  whole  mystery  of  the  affair,"  quoth 
Quicksilver;  "and  if  you  can  make  it  out,  I'll  thank 
you  to  let  me  know.     I  can't  tell  what  to  make  of 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER.  185 

my  staff.  It  is  always  playing  such  odd  tricks  as 
this,  sometimes  getting  me  a  supper,  and  quite  as 
often  stealing  it  away.  If  I  had  any  faith  in  such 
nonsense,  I  should  say  the  stick  was  bewitched." 

He  said  no  more,  but  looked  so  slyly  in  their  faces 
that  they  rather  fancied  he  was  laughing  at  them. 
The  magic  staff  went  hopping  at  his  heels  as  Quick- 
silver quitted  the  room.  When  left  alone  the  good 
old  couple  spent  some  little  time  in  conversation 
about  the  events  of  the  evening,  and  then  lay  down 
on  the  floor  and  fell  fast  asleep.  They  had  given  up 
their  sleeping-room  to  the  guests,  and  had  no  other 
bed  for  themselves  save  these  planks,  which  I  wish 
had  been  as  soft  as  their  own  hearts. 

The  old  man  and  his  wife  were  stirring  betimes  in 
the  morning,  and  the  strangers  likewise  arose  with 
the  sun  and  made  their  preparations  to  depart.  Phil- 
emon hospitably  entreated  them  to  remain  a  little 
longer  until  Baucis  could  milk  the  cow  and  bake  a 
cake  upon  the  hearth,  and  perhaps  find  them  a  few 
fresh  eggs  for  breakfast.  The  guests,  however, 
seemed  to  think  it  better  to  accomplish  a  good  part 
of  their  journey  before  the  heat  of  the  day  should 
come  on.  They  therefore  persisted  in  setting  out 
immediately,  but  asked  Philemon  and  Baucis  to  walk 
forth  with  them  a  short  distance  and  show  them  the 
road  which  they  were  to  take. 

So  they  all  four  issued  from  the  cottage,  chatting 


186  THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER. 

together  like  old  friends.  It  was  very  remarkable 
indeed  how  familiar  the  old  couple  insensibly  grew 
with  the  elder  traveller,  and  how  their  good  and 
simple  spirits  melted  into  his,  even  as  two  drops  of 
water  would  melt  into  the  illimitable  ocean.  And  as 
for  Quicksilver,  with  his  keen,  quick,  laughing  wits, 
he  appeared  to  discover  every  little  thought  that  but 
peeped  into  their  minds  before  they  suspected  it  them- 
selves. They  sometimes  wished,  it  is  true,  that  he 
had  not  been  quite  so  quick-witted,  and  also  that  he 
would  fling  away  his  staff,  which  looked  so  mysteri- 
ously mischievous  with  the  snakes  always  writhing 
about  it.  But  then,  again.  Quicksilver  showed  him- 
self so  very  good-humored  that  they  would  have  been 
rejoiced  to  keep  him  in  their  cottage,  staff,  snakes, 
and  all,  every  day  and  the  whole  day  long. 

"Ah  me!  TVell-a-day!"  exclaimed  Philemon  when 
they  had  walked  a  little  way  from  their  door.  "  If  our 
neighbors  only  knew  what  a  blessed  thing  it  is  to 
show  hospitality  to  strangers,  they  would  tie  up  all 
their  dogs  and  never  allow  their  children  to  fling  an- 
other stone."  J 

"  It  is  a  sin  and  shame  for  them  to  behave  so — that 
it  is!"  cried  good  old  Baucis,  vehemently.  "And  I 
mean  to  go  this  very  day  and  tell  some  of  them  what 
naughty  people  they  are." 

''I  fear,"  remarked  Quicksilver,  slyly  smilin^f, 
*that  you  will  find  none  of  them  at  home." 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER.  187 

The  elder  traveller's  brow  just  then  assumed  such 
a  grave,  stern,  and  awful  grandeur,  yet  serene  withal, 
that  neither  Baucis  nor  Philemon  dared  to  speak  a 
word.  They  gazed  reverently  into  his  face,  as  if  they 
had  been  gazing  at  the  sky. 

"  When  men  do  not  feel  toward  the  humblest 
stranger  as  if  he  were  a  brother,"  said  the  traveller, 
in  tones  so  deep  that  they  sounded  like  those  of  an 
organ,  "they  are  unworthy  to  exist  on  earth,  which 
was  created  as  the  abode  of  a  great  human  brother- 
hood." 

"And,  by  the  bye,  my  dear  old  people,"  cried 
Quicksilver,  with  the  liveliest  look  of  fun  and  mis- 
chief in  his  eyes,  "  where  is  this  same  village  that  you 
talk  about?  On  which  side  of  us  does  it  lie?  Me- 
thinks  I  do  not  see  it  hereabouts." 

Philemon  and  his  wife  turned  toward  the  valley, 
where  at  sunset  only  the  day  before  they  had  seen  the 
meadows,  the  houses,  the  gardens,  the  clumps  of 
trees,  the  wide,  green-margined  street  with  children 
playing  in  it,  and  all  the  tokens  of  business,  enjoy- 
ment, and  prosperity.  But  what  was  their  astonish- 
ment! There  was  no  longer  any  appearance  of  a 
village!  Even  the  fertile  vale  in  the  hollow  of  which 
it  lay  had  ceased  to  have  existence.  In  its  stead  they 
beheld  the  broad  blue  surface  of  a  lake  which  filled 
the  great  basin  of  the  valley  from  brim  to  brim,  and 
reflected  the  surrounding  hills  in  its  bosom  with  as 


188  THE  3IIRACUL0US  PITCHER. 

traDquil  an  image  as  if  it  had  been  there  ever  since 
the  creation  of  the  world.  For  an  instant  the  lake 
remained  perfectly  smooth.  Then  a  little  breeze 
sprang  up  and  caused  the  water  to  dance,  glitter,  and 
sparkle  in  the  early  sunbeams  and  to  dash  with  a 
pleasant  rippling  murmur  against  the  hither  shore. 

The  lake  seemed  so  strangely  familiar  that  the  old 
couple  were  greatly  j^erplexed,  and  felt  as  if  they 
could  only  have  been  dreaming  about  a  village  hav- 
ing lain  there.  But  the  next  moment  they  remem- 
bered the  vanished  dwellinsfs  and  the  faces  and 
characters  of  the  inhabitants  far  too  distinctly  for  a 
dream.  The  village  had  been  there  yesterday,  and 
now  was  gone! 

"  Alas !"  cried  these  kind-hearted  old  people,  "  what 
has  become  of  our  poor  neighbors?" 

"They  exist  no  longer  as  men  and  women,"  said 
the  elder  traveller  in  his  grand  and  deep  voice,  while 
a  roll  of  thunder  seemed  to  echo  it  at  a  distance. 
"  There  was  neither  use  nor  beauty  in  such  a  life  as 
theirs,  for  they  never  softened  or  sweetened  the  hard 
lot  of  mortality  by  the  exercise  of  kindly  affections 
between  man  and  man.  They  retained  no  image  of 
the  better  life  in  their  bosoms,  therefore  the  lake  that 
was  of  old  has  spread  itself  forth  again  to  reflect  the 
Bky." 

"  And  as  for  those  foolish  people,"  said  Quicksilver, 
with  his  mischievous  smile,  "they  are  all  transformed 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER.  139 

to  fishes.  'There  needed  but  little  change,  for  they 
were  already  a  scaly  set  of  rascals  and  the  coldest- 
blooded  beings  in  existence.  So,  kind  Mother  Baucis, 
whenever  you  or  your  husband  have  an  appetite  for  a 
dish  of  broiled  trout,  he  can  throw  in  a  line  and  pull, 
out  half  a  dozen  of  your  old  neighbors." 

"Ah,"  cried  Baucis,  shuddering,  "I  would  not  for 
the  world  put  one  of  them  on  the  gridiron!" 

"No,"  added  Philemon,  making  a  wry  face,  "w© 
could  never  relish  them." 

"As  for  you,  good  Philemon,"  continued  the  elder 
traveller — "and  you,  kind  Baucis — you  with  your 
scanty  means  have  mingled  so  much  heartfelt  hospi- 
tality with  your  entertainment  of  the  hom.eless  stran- 
ger that  the  milk  became  an  inexhaustible  fount  for 
nectar,  and  the  brown  loaf  and  the  honey  were  am- 
brosia. Thus  the  divinities  have  feasted  at  your 
board  off  the  same  viands  that  supply  their  banquets 
on  Olympus.  You  have  done  well,  my  dear  old 
friends.  Wherefore,  request  whatever  favor  you  have 
most  at  heart,  and  it  is  granted." 

Philemon  and  Baucis  looked  at  one  another,  and 
then — I  know  not  which  of  the  two  it  was  who 
spoke,  but  that  one  uttered  the  desire  of  both  their 
hearts : 

"  Let  us  live  together  while  we  live,  and  leave  the 
world  at  the  same  instant  when  we  die,  for  we  have 
always  loved  one  another." 


190  THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER. 

"Be  it  so,"  replied  the  stranger  with  majestic 
kindness.     "Now  look  toward  your  cottage." 

They  did  so;  but  what  was  their  surprise  on  be- 
holding a  tall  edifice  of  white  marble  with  a  wide- 
open  portal  occupying  the  spot  where  their  humble 
residence  had  so  lately  stood. 

"There  is  your  home,"  said  the  stranger,  benefi- 
cently smiling  on  them  both.  "  Exercise  your  hospi- 
tality in  yonder  palace  as  freely  as  in  the  poor  hovel 
to  which  you  welcomed  us  last  evening." 

The  old  folks  fell  on  their  knees  to  thank  him, 
but  behold !  neither  he  nor  Quicksilver  was  there. 

So  Philemon  and  Baucis  took  up  their  residence  in 
the  marble  palace,  and  spent  their  time,  with  vast 
satisfaction  to  themselves,  in  making  everybody  jolly 
and  comfortable  who  happened  to  pass  that  way. 
The  milk-pitcher,  I  must  not  forget  to  say,  retained 
its  marvellous  quality  of  being  never  empty  when  it 
was  desirable  to  have  it  full.  Whenever  an  honest, 
good-humored,  and  free-hearted  guest  took  a  draught 
from  the  pitcher,  he  invariably  found  it  the  sweetest 
and  most  invigorating  fluid  that  ever  ran  down  his 
throat.  But  if  a  cross  and  disagreeable  curmudgeon 
happened  to  sip,  he  was  pretty  certain  to  twist  his 
Tisage  into  a  hard  knot  and  pronounce  it  a  pitcher 
of  sour  milk. 

Thus  the  old  couple  lived  in  their  palace  a  great, 
great  while,  and  grew  older  and  older,  and  very  old 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER.  191 

indeed.  At  length,  however,  there  came  a  summer 
morning  when  Philemon  and  Baucis  failed  to  make 
their  appearance,  as  on  other  mornings,  with  one 
hospitable  smile  overspreading  both  their  pleasant 
faces,  to  invite  the  guests  of  overnight  to  breakfast. 
The  guests  searched  everywhere,  from  top  to  bottom 
of  the  spacious  palace,  and  all  to  no  purpose.  But 
after  a  great  deal  of  perplexity  they  espied  in  front 
of  the  portal  two  venerable  trees  which  nobody  could 
remember  to  have  seen  there  the  day  before.  Yet 
there  they  stood,  with  their  roots  fastened  deep  into 
the  soil  and  a  huge  breath  of  foliage  overshadowing 
the  whole  front  of  the  edifice.  One  was  an  oak  and 
the  other  a  linden  tree.  Their  boughs — it  was 
strange  and  beautiful  to  see — were  intertwined  to- 
gether and  embraced  one  another,  so  that  each  tree 
seemed  to  live  in  the  other  tree's  bosom  much  more 
than  in  its  own. 

While  the  guests  were  marvelling  how  these  trees, 
that  must  have  required  at  least  a  century  to  grow, 
could  have  come  to  be  so  tall  and  venerable  in  a  sin- 
gle night,  a  breeze  sprang  up  and  set  their  intermin- 
gled boughs  astir.  And  then  there  was  a  deep,  broad 
murmur  in  the  air,  as  if  the  two  mysterious  trees 
were  speaking. 

"  I  am  old  Philemon!"  murmured  the  oak. 

"I  am  old  Baucis!"  murmured  the  linden-tree. 

But  as  the  breeze   sjrew  stronger  the  trees  both 


192  THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER. 

spoke  at  once — "Philemon!  Baucis!  Baucis!  Phile- 
mon!"— as  if  one  were  both  and  both  were  one,  and 
talking  together  in  the  depths  of  their  mutual  heart. 
It  was  plain  enough  to  perceive  that  the  good  old 
couple  had  renewed  their  age,  and  were  now  to  spend 
a  quiet  and  delightful  hundred  years  or  so,  Philemon 
as  an  oak  and  Baucis  as  a  linden-tree.  And  oh,  what 
a  hospitable  shade  did  they  fling  around  them! 
Whenever  a  wayfarer  paused  beneath  it  he  heard  a 
pleasant  whisper  of  the  leaves  above  his  head,  and 
wondered  how  the  sound  should  so  much  resemble 
words  like  these: 

"  Welcome,  welcome,  dear  traveller,  welcome!" 
And  some  kind  soul  that  knew  what  would  have 
pleased  old  Baucis  and  old  Philemon  best  built  a  cir- 
cular seat  around  both  their  trunks,  where,  for  a 
great  while  afterward,  the  weary  and  the  hungry  and 
the  thirsty  used  to  repose  themselves  and  quaff  milk 
abundantly  out  of  the  miraculous  pitcher. 

And   I  wish,  for  all  our  sakes,  that  we  had  the 
pitcher  here  now  i 


THE  HILL-SIDE. 

AFTER  THE   STORY, 


'"How  much  did  the  pitcher  hold?"  asked  Sweet 
Fern. 

"  It  did  not  hold  quite  a  quart,"  answered  the  stu- 
dent, "  but  you  might  keep  pouring  miik  out  of  it 
till  you  should  fill  a  hogshead,  if  you  pleased.  The 
truth  is,  it  would  run  on  for  ever,  and  not  be  dry 
even  at  midsummer,  which  is  more  than  can  be  said 
of  yonder  rill  that  goes  babbling  down  the  hillside." 

"And  what  has  become  of  the  pitcher  now?"  in- 
quired the  little  boy. 

"  It  was  broken,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  about  twenty- 
five  thousand  years  ago,"  replied  Cousin  Eustace. 
"The  people  mended  it  as  well  as  they  could,  but, 
though  it  would  hold  milk  pretty  well,  it  was  never 
afterward  known  to  fill  itself  of  its  own  accord.  So, 
you  see,  it  was  no  better  than  any  other  cracked 
earthen  pitcher." 

"  What  a  pity!"  cried  all  the  children  at  once, 
13 


1S4  THE  HILL-SIDE. 

The  respectable  dog  Ben  had  accompanied  the 
party,  as  did  likewise  a  half-grown  Newfoundland 
puppy  who  went  by  the  name  of  Bruin,  because  he 
was  just  as  black  as  a  bear.  Ben,  being  elderly  and 
of  very  circumspect  habits,  was  respectfully  requested 
by  Cousin  Eustace  to  stay  behind  with  the  four  little 
children,  in  order  to  keep  them  out  of  mischief.  As 
for  black  Bruin,  who  was  himself  nothing  but  a 
child,  the  student  thought  it  best  to  take  him  along, 
lest  in  his  rude  play  with  the  other  children  he  should 
trip  them  up  and  send  them  rolling  and  tumbling 
down  the  hill.  Advising  Cowslip,  Sweet  Fern,  Dan- 
delion, and  Squash-blossom .  to  sit  pretty  still  in  the 
spot  where  he  left  them,  the  student,  with  Primrose 
and  the  elder  children,  began  to  ascend,  and  wei« 
eooii  out  of  sight  among  the  trees. 


BALD  SUMMIT. 

INTRODUCTORY  TO   "THE   CHIMERA. 


»t 


Upward  along  the  steep  and  wooded  hillside  went 
Eustace  Bright  and  his  companions.  The  trees  were 
not  yet  in  full  leaf,  but  had  budded  forth  sufficiently 
to  throw  an  airy  shadow,  while  the  sunshine  filled 
them  with  green  light.  There  were  moss-grown 
rocks  half-hidden  among  the  old  brown  fallen  leaves; 
there  were  rotten  tree-trunks  lying  at  full  length 
where  they  had  long  ago  fallen ;  there  were  decayed 
boughs  that  had  been  shaken  down  by  the  wintry 
gales  and  were  scattered  everywhere  about.  But  still, 
though  these  things  looked  so  aged,  the  aspect  of  the 
wood  was  that  of  the  newest  life,  for,  whichever  way 
you  turned  your  eyes,  something  fresh  and  green 
was  springing  forth,  so  as  to  be  ready  for  the  summer. 

At  last  the  young  people  reached  the  upper  verge 
of  the  wood,  and  found  themselves  almost  at  the 
summit  of  the  hill.  It  was  not  a  peak  nor  a  great 
round  ball,  but  a  pretty  wide  plain  or  tableland  witb 


196  BALD  SUMMIT. 

a  house  and  barn  upon  it  at  some  distance.  Tha^ 
house  was  the  home  of  a  solitary  family,  and  often- 
times the  clouds  whence  fell  the  rain  and  whence  the 
snow-storm  drifted  down  into  the  valley  hung  lower 
than  this  bleak  and  lonely  dwelling-place. 

On  the  highest  point  of  the  hill  was  a  heap  of 
stones,  in  the  centre  of  which  was  stuck  a  long  pole 
with  a  little  flag  fluttering  at  the  end  of  it.  Eustace 
Jed  the  children  thither,  and  bade  them  look  around 
and  see  how  large  a  tract  of  our  beautiful  world  they 
could  take  in  at  a  glance.  And  their  eyes  grew 
wider  as  they  looked. 

Monument  Mountain,  to  the  southward,  was  still 
in  the  centre  of  the  scene,  but  seemed  to  have  sunk 
and  subsided,  so  that  it  was  now  but  an  undistin- 
guished member  of  a  large  family  of  hills.  Beyond 
it  the  Taconic  range  looked  higher  and  bulkier  than 
before.  Our  pretty  lake  was  seen,  with  all  its  little 
bays  and  inlets;  and  not  that  alone,  but  two  or  three 
^^Q'N  lakes  were  opening  their  blue  eyes  to  the  sun. 
Several  white  villages,  each  with  its  steeple,  were 
scattered  about  in  the  distance.  There  were  so  ma»v 
farmhouses,  with  their  acres  of  woodland,  pasture, 
mowing-fields,  and  tillage,  that  the  children  could 
hardly  make  room  in  their  minds  to  receive  all  these 
different  objects.  There,  too,  was  Tanglewood, 
which  they  had  hitherto  thought  such  an  important 
apex  of  the  world.     It  now  occupied  so  small  a  space 


BALD  SUMMIT.  197 

that  they  gazed  far  beyond  it  and  on  either  side,  and 
searched  a  good  while  with  all  their  eyes  before  dis- 
covering whereabout  it  stood. 

White  fleecy  clouds  were  hanging  in  the  air,  and 
threw  the  dark  spots  of  their  shadow  here  and  therein 
over  the  landscape.  But  by  and  by  the  sunshine  was 
where  the  shadow  had  been,  and  the  shadow  was 
somewhere  else. 

Far  to  the  westward  was  a  range  of  blue  mountains 
which  Eustace  Bright  told  the  children  were  the 
Catskills.  Among  those  misty  hills,  he  said,  was  a 
spot  where  some  old  Dutchmen  were  playing  an  ever- 
lasting game  of  ninepins,  and  where  an  idle  fellow 
whose  name  was  Eip  Van  Winkle  had  fallen  asleep 
and  slept  twenty  years  at  a  stretch.  The  children 
eagerly  besought  Eustace  to  tell  them  all  about  this 
wonderful  affair.  But  the  student  replied  that  the 
story  had  been  told  once  already,  and  better  than  it 
ever  could  be  told  again,  and  that  nobody  would  have 
a  right  to  alter  a  word  of  it  until  it  should  have 
grown  as  old  as  "The  Gorgon's  Head"  and  "The 
Three  Golden  Apples,"  and  the  rest  of  those  miracu- 
lous legends. 

"At  least,"  said  Periwinkle,  "while  we  rest  our- 
selves here  and  are  looking  about  us  you  can  tell  u& 
another  of  your  own  stories." 

"Yes,  Cousin  Eustace,"  cried  Primrose,  "I  advise- 
you  to  Sell  us  a  story  here.     Take  some  lofty  subject  or 


198  BALD  SUMMIT. 

other,  and  see  if  your  imagination  will  not  come  up  to 
it.  Perhaps  the  mountain  air  ma}'  make  you  poetical 
for  once.  And  no  matter  how  strange  and  wonderful 
the  story  may  be,  now  that  we  are  up  among  the 
clouds  we  can  believe  anything." 

"  Can  you  believe,"  asked  Eustace,  "  that  there  was 
once  a  winged  horse?" 

"Yes,"  said  saucy  Primrose,  "but  I  am  afraid  you 
will  never  be  able  to  catch  him." 

"  For  that  matter.  Primrose,"  rejoined  the  student, 
"  I  might  possibly  catch  Pegasus,  and  get  upon  his 
back  too,  as  well  as  a  dozen  other  fellows  that  I  know 
of.  At  any  rate,  here  is  a  story  about  him;  and,  of 
all  places  in  the  world,  it  ought  certainly  to  be  told 
upon  a  mountain-top." 

So,  sitting  on  the  pile  of  stones  while  the  children 
clustered  themselves  at  its  base,  Eustace  fixed  his  eyes 
on  a  white  cloud  that  was  sailing  by  and  began  as 
follows. 


s,S,      , 


1  ■     '    ^     ■     . 


THE  CHIMERA. 


Okce,  in  the  old,  old  times  (for  all  the  strange 
things  which  I  tell  you  about  happened  long  before 
anybody  can  remember),  a  fountain  gushed  out  of  a 
hillside  in  the  marvellous  land  of  Greece.  And,  for 
aught  I  know,  after  so  many  thousand  years  it  is  still 
gushing  out  of  the  very  self-same  spot.  At  any  rate, 
there  was  the  pleasant  fountain  welling  freshly  forth 
and  sparkling  down  the  hillside  in  the  golden  sunset 
when  a  handsome  young  man  named  Bellerophon 
drew  near  its  margin.  In  his  hand  he  held  a  bridle 
studded  with  brilliant  gems  and  adorned  with  a 
golden  bit.  Seeing  an  old  man  and  another  of  middle 
age  and  a  little  boy  near  the  fountain,  and  likewise  a 
maiden  who  was  dipping  up  some  of  the  water  in  a 
pitcher,  he  paused  and  begged  that  he  might  refresh 
himself  with  a  draught. 

"This  is  very  delicious  water,"  he  said  to  the 
maiden  as  he  rinsed  and  filled  her  pitcher  after  drink- 
ing out  of  it.  "  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me 
whether  the  fountain  has  any  name?" 


200  THE  CHIMERA. 

"Yes,  it  is  called  the  fountain  of  Pirene,"  an- 
swered the  maiden;  and  then  she  added,  "My  grand- 
mother has  told  me  that  this  clear  fountain  was  once 
a  beautiful  woman,  and  when  her  son  was  killed  by 
the  arrows  of  the  huntress  Diana  she  melted  all  away 
'into  tears.  And  so  the  water  which  you  find  so  cool 
and  sweet  is  the  sorrow  of  that  poor  mother's  heart!" 

"I  should  not  have  dreamed,"  observed  the  young 
stranger,  "  that  so  clear  a  well-spring,  with  its  gush 
and  gurgle  and  its  cheery  dance  out  of  the  shade  into 
the  sunlight,  had  so  much  as  one  teardrop  in  its 
bosom.  And  this,  then,  is  Pirene?  I  thank  you, 
pretty  maiden,  for  telling  me  its  name.  I  have  oome 
from  a  far-away  country  to  find  this  very  spot." 

A  middle-aged  country  fellow  (he  had  driven  his 
cow  to  drink  out  of  the  spring)  stared  hard  at  young 
Bellerophon  and  at  the  handsome  bridle  which  he 
carried  in  his  hand. 

"  The  water-courses  must  be  getting  low,  friend, 
in  your  part  of  the  world,"  remarked  he,  **if  you 
come  so  far  only  to  find  the  Fountain  of  Pirene. 
But,  pray,  have  you  lost  a  horse?  I  see  you  carry 
the  bridle  in  your  hand,  and  a  very  pretty  one  it  is, 
with  that  double  row  of  bright  stones  upon  it  if  the 
horse  was  as  fine  as  the  bridle,  you  are  much  to  be 
pitied  for  losing  him." 

"  I  have  lost  no  horse,"  said  Bellerophon  with  a 
smile,  "  but  I  happen  to  be  seeking  a  very  famous 


THE  CHIMyERA.  201 

pne,  which,  as  wise  people  have  informed  me,  must 
be  found  hereabouts,  if  anywhere.  Do  you  know 
whether  the  winged  horse  Pegasus  still  haunts  the 
Fountain  of  Pirene,  as  he  used  to  do  in  your  fore- 
father's daysV" 

But  then  the  country  fellow  laughed. 

Some  of  you,  my  little  friends,  have  probably  heard 
that  this  Pegasus  was  a  snow-white  steed  with  beau- 
tiful silvery  wungs  who  spent  most  of  his  time  on  the 
summit  of  Mount  Helicon.  He  was  as  wild  and  as 
swift  and  as  buoyant  in  his  flight  through  the  air  as 
any  eagle  that  ever  soared  into  the  clouds.  There 
was  nothing  else  like  him  in  the  world.  He  had  no 
mate,  he  had  never  been  backed  or  bridled  by  a  mas- 
ter, and  for  many  a  long  year  he  led  a  solitary  and 
a  happy  life. 

Oh,  how  fine  a  thing  it  is  to  be  a  winged  horse! 
Sleeping  at  night,  as  he  did,  on  a  lofty  mountain- 
top,  and  passing  the  greater  part  of  the  day  in  the 
air,  Pegasus  seemed  hardly  to  be  a  creature  of  the 
^rth.  Whenever  he  was  seen  up  very  high  above 
people's  heads,  with  the  sunshine  on  his  silvery  wings, 
you  would  have  thought  that  he  belonged  to  the  sky, 
and  that,  skimming  a  little  too  low,  he  had  got  astray 
among  our  mists  and  vapors  and  was  seeking  his  way 
back  again.  It  was  very  pretty  to  behold  him  plunge 
into  the  fleecy  bosom  of  a  bright  cloud  and  be  lost  in 
it  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  then  break  forth  frona. 


20^  THE  CHIMjERA. 

the  other  side.  Or,  in  a  sullen  rainstorm,  when 
there  was  a  gray  pavement  of  clouds  over  the  whole 
sky,  it  would  sometimes  happen  that  the  winged 
horse  descended  right  through  it,  and  the  glad  light 
of  the  upper  region  would  gleam  after  him.  In  an- 
other instant,  it  is  true,  both  Pegasus  and  the  pleas- 
ant light  would  be  gone  away  together.  But  any 
one  that  was  fortunate  enough  to  see  this  wondrous 
spectacle  felt  cheerful  the  whole  day  afterward,  and 
as  much  longer  as  the  storm  lasted. 

In  the  summertime  and  in  the  beautifulest  of 
weather  Pegasus  often  alighted  on  the  solid  earth, 
and,  closing  his  silvery  wings,  would  gallop  over  hill 
and  dale  for  pastime  as  fleetly  as  the  wind.  Oftener 
than  in  any  other  place  he  had  been  seen  near  the 
Fountain  of  Pirene,  drinking  the  delicious  water  or 
rolling  himself  upon  the  soft  grass  of  the  margin. 
Sometimes,  too  (but  Pegasus  was  very  dainty  in  his 
food),  he  would  crop  a  few  of  the  clover-blossoms  that 
iiappened  to  be  sweetest. 

To  the  Fountain  of  Pirene,  therefore,  people's  great- 
grandfathers had  been  in  the  habit  of  going  (as  long 
as  they  were  youthful  and  retained  their  faith  in 
winged  horses)  in  hopes  of  getting  a  glimpse  at  the 
beautiful  Pegasus.  But  of  late  years  he  had  been 
very  seldom  seen.  Indeed,  there  were  many  of  the 
country  folks  dwelling  within  half  an  hour's  walk  of 
the  fountain  who  had  never  beheld  Pegasus,  and  did 


THE  CHIMERA.  203 

lot  believe  that  there  was  any  such  creature  in  exist- 
ence. The  country  fellow  to  whom  Bellerophon  was 
speaking  chanced  to  be  one  of  those  incredulous 
persons. 

And  that  was  the  reason  why  he  laughed. 

** Pegasus,  indeed!"  cried  he,  turning  up  his  nose, 
as  high  as  such  a  flat  nose  could  be  turned  up. 
"  Pegasus,  indeed !  A  winged  horse,  truly !  Why, 
friend,  are  you  in  your  senses?  Of  what  use  would 
wings  be  to  a  horse?  Could  he  drag  the  plough  so 
well,  think  you?  To  be  sure,  there  might  be  a  little 
saving  in  the  expense  of  shoes,  but  then  how  would  a 
man  like  to  see  his  horse  flying  out  of  the  stable-win- 
dow?— yes,  or  whisking  him  up  above  the  clouds 
when  he  only  wanted  to  ride  to  mill?  No,  no!  I 
don't  believe  in  Pegasus.  There  never  was  s«ch  a 
ridiculous  kind  of  a  horse-fowl  made!" 

"I  have  some  reason  to  think  otherwise,"  said  Bel- 
lerophon, quietly. 

And  then  he  turned  to  an  old  gray  man  who  wi.. 
leaning  on  a  staff  and  listening  very  attentively  with 
his  head  stretched  forward  and  one  hand  at  his  ear, 
because  for  the  last  twenty  years  he  had  been  getting 
rather  deaf. 

"And  what  say  you,  venerable  sir?"  inquired  he. 
"  In  your  younger  days,  I  should  imagine,  you  must 
frequently  have  seen  the  winged  steed." 

"Ah J  young  stranger,  my  memory  is  very  poor,** 


204  THE  CHIMjERA. 

said  the  aged  man.  "When  I  was  a  lad,  if  I  remem- 
ber rightly,  I  used  to  believe  there  was  such  a  horse, 
and  so  did  everybody  else.  But  nowadays  I  hardly 
know  what  to  think,  and  very  seldom  think  about 
the  winged  horse  at  all.  If  I  ever  saw  the  creature, 
it  was  a  long,  long  while  ago;  and,  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  I  doubt  whether  I  ever  did  see  him.  One  day, 
to  be  sure,  when  I  was  quite  a  youth,  I  remember 
seeing  some  hoof-tramps  round  about  the  brink  of 
the  fountain.  Pegasus  might  have  made  those  hoof- 
marks,  and  so  might  some  other  horse." 

"And  have  never  seen  him,  my  fair  maiden?" 
asked  Bellerophon  of  the  girl,  who  stood  with  the 
pitcher  on  her  head  while  this  talk  went  on.  "  You 
certainly  could  see  Pegasus  if  anybody  can,  for  your 
eyes  are  very  bright." 

"Once  I  thought  I  saw  him,"  replied  the  maiden, 
with  a  smile  and  a  blush.  "  It  was  either  Pegasus  or 
a  large  white  bird  a  very  great  way  up  in  the  air. 
And  one  other  time,  as  I  was  coming  to  the  founatin 
with  my  pitcher,  I  heard  a  neigh.  Oh,  such  a  brisk 
and  melodious  neigh  as  that  was!  My  very  heart 
leaped  with  delight  at  the  sound.  But  it  startled  me, 
nevertheless,  so  that  I  ran  home  without  filling  my 
pitcher." 

"That  was  truly  a  pity!"  said  Bellerophon. 

And  he  turned  to  the  child  whom  I  mentioned  at 
the  beginning  of  the  story,  and  who  was  gazing  at 


THE  CHIMjERA.  205 

him,  as  children  are  apt  to  gaze  at  strangers,  with  his 
rosy  mouth  wide  open. 

"Well,  my  little  fellow,"  cried  Bellerophon,  play- 
fully pulling  one  of  his  curls,  "  I  suppose  you  have 
often  seen  the  winged  horse." 

"That  I  have,"  answered  the  child  very  readily. 
"  I  saw  him  yesterday  and  many  times  before." 

"You  are  a  fine  little  man!"  said  Bellerophon, 
drawing  the  child  closer  to  him.  "  Come,  tell  me  all 
about  it." 

"  Why,"  replied  the  child,  "I  often  come  here  to 
sail  little  boats  in  the  fountain  and  to  gather  pretty 
pebbles  out  of  its  basin.  And  sometimes,  when  I 
look  down  into  the  water,  I  see  the  image  of  the 
winged  horse  in  the  picture  of  the  sky  that  is  there. 
I  wish  he  would  come  down  and  take  me  on  his  back 
and  let  ine  ride  him  up  to  the  moon.  But  if  I  so 
much  as  stir  to  look  at  him,  he  flies  far  away,  out  of 
sight." 

And  Bellerophon  put  his  faith  in  the  child  who 
had  seen  the  image  of  Pegasus  in  the  water,  and  in 
the  maiden  who  had  heard  him  neigh  so  melodiously, 
rather  than  in  the  middle-aged  clown  who  believed 
only  in  cart-horses,  t/i'  in  the  old  man  who  had  for- 
gotten the  beautiful  things  of  his  youth. 

Therefore  he  haunted  about  the  Fountain  of  Pirene 
for  a  great  many  days  afterward.  He  kept  continu- 
ally on  the  watch,  looking  upward  at  the  sky  or  else 


206  THE  CHIMj^RA. 

down  into  the  water,  hoping  forever  that  he  should 
see  either  the  reflected  image  of  the  winged  horse  or 
the  marvellous  reality.  He  held  the  bridle,  with  its 
bright  gems  and  golden  bit,  always  ready  in  his  hand. 
The  rustic  people  who  dwelt  in  the  neighborhood  and 
drove  their  cattle  to  the  fountain  to  drink  would 
often  laugh  at  poor  Bellerophon,  and  sometimes  take 
him  pretty  severely  to  task.  They  told  him  that  an 
able-bodied  young  man  like  himself  ought  to  have 
better  business  than  to  be  wasting  his  time  in  such  an 
idle  pursuit.  They  offered  to  sell  him  a  horse  if  he 
wanted  one,  and  when  Bellerophon  declined  the  pur- 
chase they  tried  to  drive  a  bargain  with  him  for  his 
fine  bridle. 

Even  the  country  boys  thought  him  so  very  foolish 
that  they  used  to  have  a  great  deal  of  sport  about 
him,  and  were  rude  enough  not  to  care  a  fig  although 
Bellerophon  saw  and  heard  it.  One  little  urchin, 
for  example,  would  play  Pegasus,  and  cut  the  oddest 
imaginable  capers  by  way  of  flying,  while  one  of  his 
schoolfellows  would  scamper  after  him  holding  forth 
a  twist  of  bulrushes  which  was  intended  to  represent 
Bellerophon's  ornamental  bridle.  But  the  gentle 
child  who  had  seen  the  picture  of  Pegasus  in  the 
water  comforted  the  young  stranger  more  than  all  the 
naughty  boys  could  torment  him.  The  dear  little 
fellow  in  his  play-hours  often  sat  down  beside  him, 
and  without  speaking  a  word  wouLd  look  down  into 


THE  CHIMERA.  207 

the  fountain  and  up  toward  the  sky  with  so  innocent 
a  faith  that  Bellerophon  could  not  help  feeling  en- 
couraged. 

Now,  you  will  perhaps  wish  to  be  told  why  it  was 
that  Bellerophon  had  undertaken  to  catch  the  winged 
horse,  and  we  shall  find  no  better  opportunity  to 
speak  about  this  matter  than  while  he  is  waiting  for 
Pegasus  to  appear. 

If  I  were  to  relate  the  whole  of  Bellerophon's  pre- 
vious adventures,  they  might  easily  grow  into  a  very 
long  story.  It  will  be  quite  enough  to  say  that  in  a 
certain  country  of  Asia  a  terrible  monster  called  a 
Obimaera  had  made  its  appearance,  and  was  doing 
more  mischief  than  could  be  talked  about  between 
uow  and  sunset.  According  to  the  best  accounts 
which  I  have  been  able  to  obtain,  this  Chimsera  was 
nearly,  if  not  quiet,  the  ugliest  and  most  poisonous 
creature,  and  the  strangest  and  unaccountablest,  and 
the  hardest  to  fight  with,  and  the  most  difficult  to 
run  away  from,  that  ever  came  out  of  the  earth's  in- 
side. It  had  a  tail  like  a  boa  constrictor,  its  body 
was  like  I  do  not  care  what,  and  it  had  three  separate 
heads,  one  of  which  was  a  lion's,  the  second  a  goat's, 
And  the  third  an  abominably  great  snake's,  and  a  hot 
blast  of  fire  came  flaming  out  of  each  of  its  three 
moaths.  Being  an  earthly  monster,  I  doubt  whether 
it  had  any  wings;  but,  win^s  or  no,  it  ran  like  a  goat 
and  a  lion  and  wriggled  along  like  a  serpent,  and 


208  THE  CHIMERA. 

thus  contrived  to  make  about  as  much  speed  as  all 
the  three  together. 

Oh,  the  mischief  and  mischief  and  mischief  that 
this  naughty  creature  did!  With  its  flaming  breath 
it  could  set  a  forest  on  fire  or  burn  up  a  field  of  grain, 
or,  for  that  matter,  a  village  with  all  its  fences  and 
houses.  It  laid  waste  the  whole  country  round  about, 
and  used  to  eat  up  people  and  animals  alive,  and  cook 
them  afterward  in  the  burning  oven  of  its  stomach. 
Mercy  on  us,  little  children!  I  hope  neither  you 
nor  I  will  ever  happen  to  meet  a  Chimera. 

While  the  hateful  beast  (if  a  beast  we  can  anywise 
call  it)  was  doing  all  these  horrible  things,  it  so 
chanced  that  Bellerophon  came  to  that  part  of  the 
world  on  a  visit  to  the  king.  The  king's  name  was 
lobates,  and  Lycia  was  the  country  which  he  ruled 
over.  Bellerophon  was  one  of  the  bravest  youths  in 
the  world,  and  desired  nothing  so  much  as  to  do  some 
valiant  and  beneficent  deed,  such  as  would  make  all 
mankind  admire  and  love  him.  In  those  days  the 
only  way  for  a  young  man  to  distinguish  himself  was 
by  fighting  battles,  either  with  the  enemies  of  his 
country  or  with  wicked  giants  or  with  troublesome 
dragons  or  with  wild  beasts,  when  he  could  find  noth' 
ing  more  dangerous  to  encounter.  King  lobates,  per- 
ceiving  the  courage  of  his  youthful  visitor,  proposed 
to  him  to  go  and  fight  the  Chimaera,  w'hich  everybody 
else  was  afraid  of,  and  which,  unless  it  should  be  sood 


THE  CHIM.^RA.  209 

killed,  was  likely  to  convert  Lycia  into  a  desert.  Bel- 
lerophon  hesitated  not  a  moment,  but  assured  the 
king  that  he  would  either  slay  this  dreaded  Chimaera 
or  perish  in  the  attempt. 

But,  in  the  first  place,  as  the  monster  was  so  pro* 
digiously  swift,  he  bethought  himself  that  he  should 
never  win  the  victory  by  fighting  on  foot.  The 
wisest  thing  he  could  do,  therefore,  was  to  get  the 
very  best  and  fleetest  horse  that  could  anywhere  be 
found.  And  what  other  horse  in  all  the  world  was 
half  so  fleet  as  the  marvellous  horse  Pegasus,  who  had 
wings  as  well  as  legs,  and  was  even  more  active  in  the 
air  than  on  the  earth?  To  be  sure,  a  great  many 
people  denied  that  there  was  any  such  horse  with 
wings,  and  said  that  the  stories  about  him  were  all 
poetry  and  nonsense.  But,  wonderful  as  it  appeared, 
Bellerophon  believed  that  Pegasus  was  a  real  steed, 
and  hoped  that  he  himself  might  be  fortunate  enough 
to  find  him ;  and,  once  fairly  mounted  on  his  back,  he 
would  be  able  to  fight  the  Chimaera  at  better  advantage. 

And  this  was  the  purpose  with  which  be  had 
travelled  from  Lycia  to  Greece  and  had  brought  the 
beautifully  ornamented  bridle  in  his  hand.  It  was 
an  enchanted  bridle.  If  he  could  only  succeed  in 
putting  the  golden  bit  into  the  mouth  of  Pegasus, 
the  winged  horse  would  be  submissive,  and  would 
own  Bellerophon  for  his  master,  and  fly  whitherso- 
ever he  might  choose  to  turn  the  rein. 
14 


210  THE  CHIMERA. 

But,  indeed,  it  was  a  weary  and  anxious  time  while 
Bellerophon  waited  and  waited  for  Pegasus,  in  hopes 
that  he  would  come  and  drink  at  the  Fountain  of 
Pirene.  He  was  afraid  lest  King  lobates  should  im- 
agine that  he  had  fled  from  the  Chimaera.  It  pained 
him,  too,  to  think  how  much  mischief  the  monster 
was  doing  while  he  himself,  instead  of  fighting  with 
it,  was  compelled  to  sit  idly  poring  over  the  bright 
waters  of  Pirene  as  they  gushed  out  of  the  sparkling 
sand.  And  as  Pegasus  came  thither  so  seldom  in 
these  latter  years,  and  scarcely  alighted  there  more 
than  once  in  a  lifetime,  Bellerophon  feared  that  he 
might  grow  an  old  man,  and  have  no  strength  left  in 
his  arms  nor  courage  in  his  heart,  before  the  winged 
horse  would  appear.  Oh,  how  heavily  passes  the  time 
while  an  adventurous  youth  is  yearning  to  do  his 
part  in  life  and  to  gather  in  the  harvest  of  his  re- 
nown! How  hard  a  lesson  it  is  to  wait!  Our  life  is 
brief,  and  how  much  of  it  is  spent  in  teaching  us 
only  this! 

Well  was  it  for  Bellerophon  that  the  gentle  child 
had  grown  so  fond  of  him  and  was  never  weary  of^ 
keeping  him  company.  Every  morning  the  child 
gave  him  a  new  hope  to  put  in  his  bosom  instead  of 
yesterday's  withered  one. 

"Dear  Bellerophon,"  he  would  cry,  looking  up 
hopefully  into  his  face,  "  I  think  we  shall  see  Pegj/sus 
to-day." 


TEE  CHIMjERA.  211 

And  at  length,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  little 
boy's  unwavering  faith,  Bellerophon  would  have  given 
up  all  hope,  and  would  have  gone  back  to  Lycia  and 
have  done  his  best  to  slay  the  Chimera  without  the 
help  of  the  winged  horse.  And  in  that  case  poor 
Bellerophon  would  at  least  have  been  terribly  scorched 
by  the  creature's  breath,  and  would  most  probably' 
have  been  killed  and  devoured.     Nobodv  should  ever 

ft/ 

try  to  fight  an  earth-born  Chimera  unless  he  can  first 
get  upon  the  back  of  an  aerial  steed. 

One  morning  the  child  spoke  to  Belleropohon  even 
more  hopefully  than  usual. 

"Dear,  dear  Bellerophon,"  cried  he,  "I  know  not 
why  it  is,  but  I  feel  as  if  we  should  certainly  see  Pe- 
gasus to-day. " 

And  all  that  day  he  would  not  stir  a  .step  from 
Bellerophon's  side,  so  they  ate  a  crust  of  bread  to- 
gether and  drank  some  of  the  water  of  the  fountain. 
In  the  afternoon  there  they  sat,  and  Bellerophon  bad 
thrown  his  arm  around  the  child,  who  likewise  had 
put  one  of  his  little  hands  into  Bellerophon's.  The 
latter  was  lost  in  his  own  thoughts,  and  was  fixing  his 
eyes  vacantly  on  the  trunks  of  the  trees  that  over- 
shadowed the  fountain  and  on  the  grapevines  that 
clambered  up  among  their  branches.  But  the  gentle 
child  was  gazing  down  into  the  water;  he  was  grieved, 
for  Bellerophon's  sake,  that  the  hope  of  another  day 
should  be  deceived  like  so  many  before  it,  and  two  or 


212  THE  CHIM.^RA. 

three  quiet  tear-drops  fell  from  his  ej^es  and  mingled 
with  what  were  said  to  be  the  many  tears  of  Pirene 
when  she  wept  for  her  slain  children. 

But,  when  he  least  thought  of  it,  Bellerophon  felt 
the  pressure  of  the  child's  little  hand  and  heard  a 
soft,  almost  breathless  whisper: 

"  See  there,  dear  Bellerophon !  There  is  an  image 
in  the  water!" 

The  young  man  looked  down  into  the  dimpling 
mirror  of  the  fountain,  and  saw  what  he  took  to  be 
the  reflection  of  a  bird  which  seemed  to  be  flying  at 
a  great  height  in  the  air,  with  a  gleam  of  sunshine 
on  its  snowy  or  silvery  wings. 

"What  a  splendid  bird  it  must  be!"  said  he. 
"  And  how  very  large  it  looks,  though  it  must  really 
be  flying  higher  than  the  clouds!" 

"  It  makes  me  tremble,"  whispered  the  child.  "I 
am  afraid  to  look  up  into  the  air.  It  is  very  beauti- 
ful, and  yet  I  dare  only  look  at  its  image  in  the  water. 
Dear  Bellerophon,  do  you  not  see  that  it  is  no  bird? 
It  is  the  winged  horse  Pegasus." 

Bellerophon's  heart  began  to  throb.  He  gazed 
keenly  upward,  but  could  not  see  the  winged  creature, 
whether  bird  or  horse,  because  just  then  it  had 
plunged  into  the  fleecy  depths  of  a  summer  cloud. 
It  was  but  a  moment,  however,  before  the  object  re- 
appeared, sinking  lightly  down  out  of  the  cloud, 
although   still   at   a   vast   distance  from  the  earth. 


THE  CHIMJSRA.  213 

Bellerophon  caught  the  child  in  his  arms  and  shrank 
back  with  him,  so  that  they  were  both  hidden  among 
the  thick  shrubbery  which  grew  all  around  the  foun- 
tain. Not  that  he  was  afraid  of  any  harm,  but  he 
dreaded  lest,  if  Pegasus  caught  a  glimpse  of  them,  he 
would  fly  far  away  and  alight  in  some  inaccessible 
mountain-top,  for  it  was  really  the  winged  horse. 
After  they  had  expected  him  so  long,  he  was  coming 
to  quench  his  thirst  with  the  water  of  Pirene. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  aerial  wonder,  flying 
in  great  circles,  as  you  may  have  seen  a  dove  when 
about  to  alight.  Downward  came  Pegasus,  in  those 
wide,  sweeping  circles  which  grew  narrower  and  nar- 
rower still  as  he  gradually  approached  the  earth.  The 
nigher  the  view  of  him,  the  more  beautiful  he  was 
and  the  more  marvellous  the  sweep  of  his  silvery 
wings.  At  last,  with  so  light  a  pressure  as  hardly  to 
bend  the  grass  about  the  fountain  or  imprint  a  hoof- 
tramp  in  the  sand  of  its  margin,  he  alighted,  and, 
stooping  his  wild  head,  began  to  drink.  He  drew  in 
the  water  with  long  and  pleasant  sighs  and  tranquil 
pauses  of  enjoyment,  and  then  another  draught,  and 
another,  and  another,  for  nowhere  in  the  world  or 
up  among  the  clouds  did  Pegasus  love  any  water  as 
he  loved  this  of  Pirene.  And  when  his  thirst  was 
Blaked  he  cropt  a  few  of  the  honey-blossoms  of  the 
clover,  delicately  tasting  them,  but  not  caring  to 
make  a  hearty  meal,  because  the  herbage  just  be- 


214  THE  CHIM^EA. 

neath  the  clouds  on  the  lofty  sides  of  Mount  Helicon 
suited  his  palate  better  than  this  ordinary  grass. 

After  thus  'drinking  to  his  heart's  content,  and  in 
his  dainty  fasnion  condescending  to  take  a  little  food, 
the  winged  horse  began  to  caper  to  and  fro  and  dance, 
as  it  were,  out  of  mere  idleness  and  sport.  There 
never  was  a  more  playful  creature  made  than  this  very 
Pegasus.  So  there  he  frisked  in  a  way  that  it  de- 
lights me  to  think  about,  fluttering  his  great  wings 
as  lightly  as  ever  did  a  linnet,  and  running  little 
races  half  on  earth  and  half  in  air,  and  which  I 
know  not  whether  to  call  a  flight  or  a  gallop.  When 
a  creature  is  perfectly  able  to  fly,  he  sometimes  chooses 
to  run  Just  for  the  pastime  of  the  thing ;  and  so  did 
Pegasus,  although  it  cost  him  some  little  trouble  to 
keep  his  hoofs  so  near  the  ground.  Bellerophon, 
meanwhile  holding  the  child's  hand,  peeped  forth 
from  the  shrubbery,  and  thought  that  never  was  any 
sight  so  beautiful  as  this,  nor  ever  a  horse's  eyes  so 
wild  and  spirited  as  those  of  Pegasus.  It  seemed  a 
sin  to  think  of  bridling  him  and  riding  on  his  back. 

Once  or  twice  Pegasus  stopped  and  snuffed  the  air, 
pricking  up  his  ears,  tossing  his  head,  and  turning 
it  on  all  sides,  as  if  he  partly  suspected  some  mischief 
or  other.  Seeing  nothing,  however,  and  hearing  no 
sound,  he  soon  began  his  antics  again. 

At  length — not  that  he  was  weary,  but  only  idle 
and  luxurious — Pegasus  folded  his  wings  and  lay  down 


THE  CHIMERA.  215 

on  the  soft  green  turf.  But,  being  too  full  of  aerial 
life  to  remain  quiet  for  many  moments  together,  he 
soon  rolled  over  on  his  back  with  his  four  slender  legs 
in  the  air.  It  was  beautiful  to  see  him,  this  one 
solitary  creature  whose  mate  had  never  been  created, 
but  who  needed  no  companion,  and  living  a  great 
many  hundred  years,  was  as  happy  as  the  centuries 
were  long.  The  more  he  did  such  things  as  mortal 
horses  are  accustomed  to  do,  the  less  earthly  and  the 
more  wonderful  he  seemed.  Bellerophon  and  the 
child  almost  held  their  breath,  partly  from  delightful 
awe,  but  still  more  because  they  dreaded  lest  the 
slightest  stir  or  murmur  should  send  him  up  with  the 
speed  of  an  arrow-flight  into  the  farthest  blue  of  the 
sky. 

Finally,  when  he  had  had  enough  of  rolling  over 
and  over,  Pegasus  turned  himself  about  and,  indo- 
lently, like  any  other  horse,  put  out  his  fore  legs  in 
order  to  rise  from  the  ground ;  and  Bellerophon,  who 
had  guessed  that  he  would  do  so,  darted  suddenly 
from  the  thicket  and  leaped  astride  of  his  back. 

Yes,  there  he  sat,  on  the  back  of  the  winged  horse! 

But  what  a  bound  did  Pegasus  make  when,  for  the 
first  time,  he  felt  the  weight  of  a  mortal  man  upon 
his  loins!  A  bound,  indeed!  Before  he  had  time  to 
draw  a  breath  Bellerophon  found  himself  five  hun- 
dred feet  aloft,  and  still  shooting  upward,  while  the 
winged  horse  snorted  and  trembled  with  terror  and 


216  THE  CHIMERA. 

anger.  Upward  he  went,  up,  up,  up,  until  he 
plunged  into  the  cold,  misty  bosom  of  a  cloud  at 
which,  only  a  little  before,  Bellerophon  had  been 
gazing  and  fancying  it  a  very  pleasant  spot.  Then 
again,  out  of  the  heart  of  the  cloud,  Pegasus  shot 
down  like  a  thunderbolt,  as  if  he  meant  to  dash  both 
himself  and  his  rider  headlong  against  a  rock.  Then 
he  went  through  about  a  thousand  of  the  wildest 
caprioles  that  had  ever  been  performed  either  by  a 
bird  or  a  horse. 

I  cannot  tell  you  half  that  he  did.  He  skimmed 
straiorht  forward  and  sideways  and  backward.  He 
reared  himself  erect,  with  his  fore  legs  on  a  wreath 
of  mist  and  his  hind  legs  on  nothing  at  all.  He  flung 
out  his  heels  behind  and  put  down  his  head  between 
his  legs,  with  his  wings  pointing  right  upward.  At 
about  two  miles'  heigjht  above  the  earth  he  turned 
a  somerset,  so  that  Bellerophon's  heels  were  where  his 
head  should  have  been,  and  he  seemed  to  look  down 
into  the  sky,  instead  of  up.  He  twisted  his  head 
about,  and,  looking  Bellerophon  in  the  face  with  fire 
flashing  from  his  eyes,  made  a  terrible  attempt  to 
bite  him.  He  fluttered  his  pinions  so  wildly  that  one 
of  the  silver  feathers  was  shaken  out,  and,  floating 
earthward,  was  picked  up  by  the  child,  who  kept  it  as 
long  as  he  lived  in  memory  of  Pegasus  and  Bellero- 
phon. 

But  the  latter  (who,  as  you  may  judge,  was  as  good 


THE  CHIMERA.  ^i 

a  horseman  as  ever  galloped)  had  been  watching  his 
opportunity,  and  at  last  clapped  the  golden  bit  of 
the  enchanted  bridle  between  the  winged  steed's  jaws. 
No  sooner  was  this  done  than  Pegasus  became  as 
manageable  as  if  he  had  taken  food  all  his  life  out  of 
Bellerophon's  hand.  To  speak  what  I  reall}-  feel,  it 
was  almost  a  sadness  to  see  so  wild  a  creature  grow 
suddenly  so  tame.  And  Pegasus  seemed  to  feel  it  so 
likewise.  He  looked  round  to  Bellerophon  with  tears 
in  his  beautiful  eyes,  instead  of  the  fire  that  so  re- 
cently flashed  from  them.  But  when  Bellerophon 
patted  his  head  and  spoke  a  few  authoritative  yet 
kind  and  soothing  words,  another  look  came  into  the 
eyes  of  Pegasus,  for  he  was  glad  at  heart,  after  so 
many  lonely  centuries,  to  have  found  a  companion 
&nd  a  master. 

Thus  it  always  is  with  winged  horses  and  with  all 
Buch  wild  and  solitary  creatures.  If  you  can  catch 
and  overcome  them,  it  is  the  surest  way  to  win  their 
Ipve. 

While  Pegasus  had  been  doing  his  utmost  to  shake 
Bellerophon  off  his  back  he  had  flown  a  very  long 
distance,  and  they  had  come  within  sight  of  a  lofty 
mountain  by  the  time  the  bit  was  in  his  mouth. 
Bellerophon  had  seen  this  mountain  before,  an-d  knew 
it  to  be  Helicon,  on  the  summit  of  which  was  the 
winged  horse's  abode.  Thither  (after  looking  gently 
into  his  rider's  face,  as  if  to  ask  leave)  Pegasus  now 


kliS  THE  CHIMERA. 

flew,  and,  alighting,  waited  patiently  until  Bellero- 
phon  should  please  to  dismount.  The  young  man 
accordingly  leaped  from  his  steed's  back,  but  still 
held  him  fast  by  the  bridle.  Meeting  his  eyes,  how- 
ever,  he  was  so  affected  by  the  gentleness  of  his  as- 
pect  and  by  his  beauty,  and  by  the  thought  of  the 
free  life  which  Pegasus  had  heretofore  lived,  that  he 
could  not  bear  to  keep  him  a  prisoner  if  he  really 
desired  his  liberty. 

Obeying  this  generous  impulse,  he  slipped  the  en- 
chanted bridle  off  the  head  of  Pegasus  and  took  the 
bit  from  his  mouth. 

"  Leave  me,  Pegasus!"  said  he.  "Either  leave  me 
or  love  me." 

In  an  instant  the  winged  horse  shot  almost  out  of 
sight,  soaring  straight  upward  from  the  summit  of 
Mount  Helicon.  Being  long  after  sunset,  it  was  now 
twilight  on  the  mountain-top  and  dusky  evening  over 
all  the  country  round  about.  But  Pegasus  flew  so 
high  that  he  overtook  the  departed  day  and  was 
bathed  in  the  upper  radiance  of  the  sun.  Ascending 
higher  and  higher,  he  looked  like  a  bright  speck,  and 
at  last  could  no  longer  be  seen  in  the  hollow  waste  of 
the  sky.  And  Bellerophon  was  afraid  that  he  should 
never  behold  him  more.  But  while  he  was  lamenting 
his  own  folly  the  bright  speck  reappeared,  and  drew 
nearer  and  nearer  until  it  descended  lower  than  the 
sunshine,  and  behold  Pegasus  had  come  back !     After 


THE  CHIMERA.  219 

this  trial  there  was  no  more  fear  of  the  winged  horse's 
making  his  escape.  He  and  Bellerophon  were  friends, 
and  put  loving  faith  in  one  another. 

That  night  they  lay  down  and  slept  together,  with 
Bellerophon's  arm  about  the  neck  of  Pegasus,  not  as 
a  caution,  but  for  kindness.  And  they  awoke  at 
peep  of  day  and  bade  one  another  good-morning, 
each  in  his  own  language. 

In  this  manner  Bellerophon  and  the  wondrous 
steed  spent  several  days,  and  grew  better  acquainted 
and  fonder  of  each  other  all  the  time.  They  went  on 
long  aerial  journeys,  and  sometimes  ascended  so  high 
that  the  earth  looked  hardly  bigger  than  the  moon. 
They  visited  different  countries,  and  amazed  the  in- 
habitants, who  thought  that  the  beautiful  young  man 
on  the  back  of  the  winged  horse  must  have  come 
down  out  of  the  sky.  A  thousand  miles  a  day  was 
no  more  than  an  easy  space  for  the  fleet  Pegasus  to 
pass  over.  Bellerophon  was  delighted  with  this  kind 
of  life,  and  would  have  liked  nothing  better  than  to 
live  always  in  the  same  way,  aloft  in  the  clear  atmos- 
phere, for  it  was  always  sunny  weather  up  there, 
however  cheerless  and  rainy  it  might  be  in  the 
lower  region.  But  he  could  not  forget  the  horrible 
Chimaera  which  he  had  promised  King  lobates  to 
slay.  So  at  last,  when  he  had  become  well  accus- 
tomed to  feats  of  horsemanship  in  the  air,  and  could 
aianage    Pegasus    with    the    least    motion    of    his 


220  THE  CHIMERA. 

hand,  and  had  taught  him  to  obey  his  voice,  he 
determined  to  attempt  the  performance  of  this  peril- 
ous adventure. 

At  daybreak,  therefore,  as  soon  as  he  unclosed  his 
eyes,  he  gently  pinched  the  winged  horse's  ear  in 
order  to  arouse  him.  Pegasus  immediately  started 
from  the  ground,  and  pranced  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  aloft  and  made  a  grand  sweep  around  the  moun- 
tain-top by  way  of  showing  that  he  was  wide  awake 
and  ready  for  any  kind  of  an  excursion. 

During  the  whole  of  this  little  flight  he  uttered  a 
loud,  brisk,  and  melodious  neigh,  and  finally  came 
down  at  Bellerophon's  side  as  lightly  as  ever  you  saw 
a  sparrow  hop  upon  a  twig. 

"Well  done,  dear  Pegasus!  well  done,  my  sky- 
skimmer!"  cried  Bellerophon,  fondly  stroking  the 
horse's  neck.  "  And  now,  my  fleet  and  beautiful 
friend,  we  must  break  our  fast.  To-day  we  are  to 
fight  the  terrible  Chimsera." 

As  soon  as  they  had  eaten  their  morning  meal  and 
drank  some  sparkling  water  from  a  spring  called  Hip- 
pocrene,  Pegasus  held  out  his  head  of  his  own  accord, 
so  that  his  master  might  put  on  the  bridle.  Then, 
with  a  great  many  playful  leaps  and  airy  caperings, 
he  showed  his  impatience  to  be  gone  while  Bellero- 
phon Avas  girding  on  his  sword  and  hanging  his  shield 
about  his  neck  and  preparing  himself  for  battle. 
When  everything  was  ready  the  rider  mounted  and 


TEE  CHIMERA.  221 

(as  was  his  custom  when  going  a  long  distance)  as- 
cended five  miles  perpendicularly,  so  as  the  better  to 
see  whither  he  was  directing  his  course.  He  then 
turned  the  head  of  Pegasus  toward  the  east  and  set 
out  for  Lycia.  In  their  flight  they  overtook  an  eagle 
and  came  so  nigh  him,  before  he  could  get  out  of 
their  way,  that  Bellerophon  might  easily  have  caught 
him  by  the  leg.  Hastening  onward  at  this  rate,  it 
was  still  early  in  the  forenoon  when  they  beheld  the 
lofty  mountains  of  Lycia,  with  their  deep  and  shaggy 
valleys.  If  Bellerophon  had  been  told  truly,  it  was 
in  one  of  those  dismal  valleys  that  the  hideous  Chi- 
maera  had  taken  up  its  abode. 

Being  now  so  near  their  journey's  end,  the  winged 
horse  gradually  descended  with  his  rider,  and  they 
took  advantage  of  some  clouds  that  were  floating  over 
the  mountain-tops  in  order  to  conceal  themselves. 
Hovering  on  the  upper  surface  of  a  cloud  and  peep- 
ing over  its  edge,  Bellerophon  had  a  pretty  distinct 
view  of  the  mountainous  part  of  Lycia,  and  could 
look  into  all  its  shadowy  vales  at  once.  At  first  there 
appeared  to  be  nothing  remarkable.  It  was  a  wild, 
savage,  and  rocky  tract  of  high  and  precipitous  hills. 
In  the  more  level  part  of  the  country  there  were  the 
ruins  of  houses  that  had  been  burnt,  and  here  and 
there  the  carcasses  of  dead  cattle  strewn  about  the 
pastures  where  they  had  been  feeding. 

**The  Ohimaera  must  have  done   this  mischief," 


222  THE  CHIMERA. 

thought  Bellerophon.     "  But  where  can  the  monster 

be?" 

As  I  have  already  said,  there  was  nothing  remark- 
able to  be  detected  at  first  sight  in  any  of  the  valleys 
and  dells  that  lay  among  the  precipitous  heights  of 
the  mountains — nothing  at  all,  unless,  indeed,  it  were 
three  spires  of  black  smoke  which  issued  from  what 
seemed  to  be  the  mouth  of  a  cavern  and  clambered 
sullenly  into  the  atmosphere.  Before  reaching  the 
mountain-top  these  three  black  smoke-wreaths  min- 
gled themselves  into  one.  The  cavern  was  almost 
directly  beneath  the  winged  horse  and  his  rider,  at 
the  distance  of  about  a  thousand  feet.  The  smoke, 
as  it  crept  heavily  upward,  had  an  ugly,  sulphurous, 
stifling  scent,  which  caused  Pegasus  to  snort  and  Bel- 
lerophon to  sneeze.  So  disagreeable  was  it  to  the 
marvellous  steed  (who  was  accustomed  to  breathe 
only  the  purest  air)  that  he  waved  his  wings  and 
shot  half  a  mile  out  of  the  range  of  this  offensive 
vapor. 

But  on  looking  behind  him,  Bellerophon  saw  some- 
thing that  induced  him  first  to  draw  the  bridle  and] 
then  to  turn  Pegasus  about.  He  made  a  sign,  which 
the  winged  horse  understood,  and  sunk  slowly 
through  the  air  until  his  hoofs  were  scarcely  more 
than  a  man's  height  above  the  rocky  bottom  of  the 
valley.  In  front,  as  far  off  as  you  could  throw  a  stone, 
"was  the  cavern's  mouth  with  the  three  smoke-wreaths 


THE  CHIMERA.  223 

oozing   out  of  it.     And  what  else  did  Bellerophon 
behold  there? 

There  seemed  to  be  a  heap  of  strange  and  terrible 
creatures  curled  up  within  the  cavern.  Their  bodies 
lay  so  close  together  that  Bellerophon  could  not  dis- 
tinguish them  apart;  but,  judging  by  their  heads, 
one  of  these  creatures  was  a  huge  snake,  the  second  a 
fierce  lion,  and  the  third  an  ugly  goat.  The  lion  and 
the  goat  were  asleep;  the  snake  was  broad  awake, 
and  kept  staring  around  him  with  a  great  pair  of  fiery 
eyes.  But — and  this  was  the  most  wonderful  part  of 
the  matter — the  three  spires  of  smoke  evidently  issued 
from  the  nostrils  of  these  three  heads !  So  strange  was 
the  spectacle  that,  though  Bellerophon  had  been  all 
along  expecting  it,  the  truth  did  not  immediately 
occur  to  him  that  here  was  the  terrible  three-headed 
Chimaera.  He  had  found  out  the  Chimaera's  cavern. 
The  snake,  the  lion,  and  the  goat,  as  he  supposed 
them  to  be,  were  not  three  separate  creatures,  bufc 
one  monster! 

The  wicked,  hateful  thing!  Slumbering,  as  two- 
thirds  of  it  were,  it  still  held  in  its  abominable  claws 
the  remnant  of  an  unfortunate  lamb — or  possibly 
(but  I  hate  to  think  so)  it  was  a  dear  little  boy — ■ 
whifch  its  three  mouths  had  been  gnawing  before 
two  of  them  fell  asleep! 

All  at  once  Bellerophon  started  as  from  a  dream, 
and  knew  it  to  be  the  ChimaBra.     Pegasus  seemed  to 


224  THE  CHIMERA. 

know  it  a-  the  same  instant,  and  sent  forth  a  neigh 
that  sounded  like  the  call  of  a  trumpet  to  battle.  At 
this  sound  the  three  heads  reared  themselves  erect  and 
belched  out  great  flashes  of  flame.  Before  Bellero- 
phon  had  time  to  consider  what  to  do  next  the  monster 
flung  itself  out  of  the  cavern  and  sprung  straight  to- 
ward him,  with  its  immense  claws  extended  and  its 
snaky  tail  twisting  itself  venomously  behind.  If 
Pegasus  had  not  been  as  nimble  as  a  bird,  both  he 
and  his  rider  would  have  been  overthrown  by  the 
Chimaera's  headlong  rush,  and  thus  the  battle  have 
been  ended  before  it  was  well  begun.  But  the  winged 
horse  was  not  to  be  caught  so.  In  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye  he  was  up  aloft,  half-way  to  the  clouds,  snort- 
ing with  anger.  He  shuddered,  too,  not  with 
affright,  but  with  utter  disgust  at  the  loathsomeness 
of  this  poisonous  thing  with  three  heads. 

The  Chimaera,  on  the  other  hand,  raised  itself  up 
so  as  to  stand  absolutely  on  the  tip  end  of  its  tail,  with 
its  talons  pawing  fiercely  in  the  air  and  its  three  heads 
spluttering  fire  at  Pegasus  and  his  rider.  My  stars! 
how  it  roared  and  hissed  and  bellowed !  Bellerophon, 
meanwhile,  was  fitting  his  shield  on  his  arm  and 
drawing  his  sword. 

"Now,  my  beloved  Pegasus,"  he  whispered  in  the 
winged  horse's  ear,  "  thou  must  help  me  to  slay  this 
insufferable  monster,  or  else  thou  shalt  fly  back  to  thy 
(solitary  mountain-peak  without  thy  friend  Bellero* 


THE  CHIMERA.  225 

phon.  For  either  the  Chimera  dies  or  its  three 
mouths  shall  gnaw  this  head  of  mine  which  has 
slumbered  upon  thy  neck." 

Pegasus  whinnied  and,  turning  back  his  head, 
rubbed  his  nose  tenderly  against  his  rider's  cheek. 
It  was  his  way  of  telling  hira  that,  though  he  had 
wings  and  was  an  immortal  horse,  yet  he  would 
perish,  if  it  were  possible  for  immortality  to  perish, 
rather  than  leave  Bellerophon  behind. 

"I  thank  you,  Pegasus,"  answered  Bellerophon. 
*'Now,  then,  let  us  make  a  dash  at  the  monster!" 

Uttering  these  words,  he  shook  the  bridle,  and 
i'egasus  darted  down  aslant,  as  swift  as  the  flight  of  an 
arrow,  right  toward  the  Chimaera's  threefold  head, 
■which  all  this  time  was  poking  itself  as  high  as  it 
could  into  the  air.  As  he  came  within  arm's  length 
Bellerophon  made  a  cut  at  the  monster,  but  was  car- 
ried onward  by  his  steed  before  he  could  see  whether 
the  blow  had  been  successful.  Pegasus  continued  his 
course,  but  soon  wheeled  round  at  about  the  same 
distance  from  the  Chimaera  as  before.  Bellerophon 
then  perceived  that  he  had  cut  the  goat's  head  of  the 
monster  almost  oS,  so  that  it  dangled  downward  by 
tlie  skin  and  seemed  quite  dead. 

But,  to  make  amends,  the  snake's  head  and  the 
li^on's  head  had  taken  all  the  fierceness  of  the  dead 
one  into  themselves,  and  spit  flame  and  hissed  and 
reared  with  a  vast  deal  more  fury  than  before. 
15 


826  THE  CHIMjERA. 

"Never  mind,  my  brave  Pegasus!"  cried  Bellero 
phon.  "  With  another  stroke  like  that  we  will  stop 
either  its  hissing  or  its  roaring." 

And  again  he  shook  the  bridle.  Dashing  aslant- 
wise  as  before,  the  winged  horse  made  another  arrow- 
flight  toward  the  Chimagra,  and  Bellerophon  aimed 
another  downright  stroke  at  one  of  the  two  remaining 
heads  as  he  shot  by.  But  this  time  neither  he  nor 
Pegasus  escaped  so  well  as  at  first.  AVith  one  of  its 
claws  the  Chimaera  had  given  the  young  man  a  deep 
scratch  in  his  shoulder,  and  had  slightly  damaged 
the  left  wing  of  the  flying  steed  with  the  other.  On 
his  part,  Bellerophon  had  mortally  wounded  the? 
lion's  head  of  the  monster,  insomuch  that  it  now 
hung  downward,  with  its  fire  almost  extinguished 
and  sending  out  gasps  of  thick  black  smoke.  The 
snake's  head,  however  (which  was  the  only  one  now 
left) ,  was  twice  as  fierce  and  venomous  as  ever  be- 
fore. It  belched  forth  shoots  of  fire  five  hundred 
yards  long,  and  emitted  hisses  so  loud,  so  harsh, 
and  so  ear-piercing  that  King  lobates  heard  them 
fifty  miles  off,  and  trembled  till  the  throne  shook 
under  him. 

"Well-a-day!"  thought  the  poor  king,  "the  Chi- 
maera  is  certainly  coming  to  devour  me." 

Meanwhile,  Pegasus  had  again  paused  in  the  air 
and  neighed  angrily,  while  sparkles  of  a  pure  crystal 
fiame  darted  out  of  his  eyes.     How  unlike  the  lurid 


THE  CHIMERA.  227 

fire  of  the  Chimaera!  The  aerial  steed's  spirit  was 
all  aroused,  and  so  was  that  of  Bellerophon. 

"Dost  thou  bleed,  my  immortal  horse?"  cried  the 
young  man,  caring  less  for  his  own  hurt  than  for  the 
anguish  of  this  glorious  creature  that  ought  never 
to  have  tasted  pain.  "  The  execrable  Chimaera  shall 
pay  for  this  mischief  with  his  last  head." 

Then  he  shook  the  bridle,  shouted  loudly,  and 
guided  Pegasus,  not  aslantwise  as  before,  but  straight 
at  the  monster's  hideous  front.  So  rapid  was  the 
onset  that  it  seemed  but  a  dazzle  and  a  flash  before 
Bellerophon  was  at  close  gripes  with  his  enemy. 

The  Chimaera  by  this  time,  after  losing  its  second 
head,  had  got  into  a  red-hot  passion  of  pain  and  ram- 
pant rage.  It  so  flounced  about,  half  on  earth  and 
partly  in  the  air,  that  it  was  impossible  to  say  which 
element  it  rested  upon.  It  opened  its  snake-jaws  to 
Buch  an  abominable  width  that  Pegasus  might  almost, 
I  was  going  to  say,  have  flown  right  down  its  throat, 
wings  outspread,  rider  and  all!  At  their  approach  it 
shot  out  a  tremendous  blast  of  its  fiery  breath  and 
enveloped  Bellerophon  and  his  steed  in  a  perfect  at- 
mosphere of  flame,  singeing  the  wings  of  Pegasus, 
scorching  off  one  whole  side  of  the  young  man's  golden 
ringlets,  and  making  them  both  far  hotter  than  was 
comfortable  from  head  to  foot. 

But  this  was  nothinoj  to  what  followed. 

When  the  airy  rush  of  the  winged  horse  had  brought 


228  THE  CHIMERA. 

him  within  the  distance  of  a  hundred  yards  the 
Chimaera  gave  a  spring,  and  flung  its  huge,  awkward, 
venomous,  and  utterly  detestable  carcass  right  upon 
poor  Pegasus,  clung  round  him  with  might  and  main, 
and  tied  up  its  snaky  tail  into  a  knot!  Up  flew  the 
aerial  steed,  higher,  higher,  above  the  mountain- 
peaks,  above  the  clouds,  and  almost  out  of  sight  of 
the  solid  earth.  But  still  the  earth-born  monster 
kept  its  hold,  and  was  borne  upward  along  with  the 
creature  of  light  and  air.  Bellerophon,  meanwhile 
turning  about,  found  himself  face  to  face  with  the 
ugly  grimness  of  the  Chimaera's  visage,  and  could 
only  avoid  being  scorched  to  death  or  bitten  right  in 
twain  by  holding  up  his  shield.  Over  the  upper  edge 
of  the  shield  he  looked  sternly  into  the  savage  eyes  of 
the  monster. 

But  the  Chimaera  was  so  mad  and  wild  with  pain 
that  it  did  not  guard  itself  so  well  as  might  else  have 
been  the  case.  Perhaps,  after  all,  the  best  way  to 
fight  a  Chimaera  is  by  getting  as  close  to  it  as  you 
can.  In  its  efforts  to  stick  its  horrible  iron  claws 
into  its  enemy  the  creature  left  its  own  breast  quite 
exposed,  and,  perceiving  this,  Bellerophon  thrust  his 
sword  up  to  the  hilt  into  its  cruel  heart.  Immedi- 
ately the  snaky  tail  untied  its  knot.  The  monster 
let  go  its  hold  of  Pegasus  and  fell  from  that  vast 
height  downward,  while  the  fire  within  its  bosom, 
instead  of  being  put  out,  burned  fiercer  than  ever, 


THE  CHIMERA.  229 

and  quiukly  began  to  consume  the  dead  carcass. 
Thus  it  fell  out  of  the  sky  all  aflame,  and  (it  being 
nightfall  before  it  reached  the  earth)  was  mistaken 
for  a  shooting  star  or  a  comet.  But  at  early  sunrise 
some  cottagers  were  going  to  their  day's  labor,  and 
Baw,  to  their  astonishment,  that  several  acres  of 
ground  were  strewn  with  black  ashes.  In  the  middle 
of  a  field  there  was  a  heap  of  whitened  bones  a  great 
deal  higher  than  a  haystack.  Nothing  else  was  ever 
seen  ot  the  dreadful  Chimsera ! 

And  when  Bellerophon  had  won  the  victory  he  bent 
forward  and  kissed  Pegasus,  while  the  tears  stood  in 
his  eyes. 

"Back  now,  my  beloved  steed!"  said  he.  "Back 
to  the  Fountain  of  Pirene!" 

Pegasus  skimmed  through  the  air  quicker  than 
ever  he  did  before,  and  reached  the  fountain  in  a 
very  short  time.  And  there  he  found  the  old  man 
leaning  on  his  staff,  and  the  country  fellow  watering 
his  cow,  and  the  pretty  maiden  filling  her  pitcher.      . 

"I  remember  now,"   quoth  the  old  man,  "I  saw 
this  winged  horse  once  before,  when  I  was  quite  a  lad 
But  he  was  ten  times  handsomer  in  those  days." 

"  I  own  a  cart-horse  worth  three  of  him,"  said  the 
country  fellow.  "  If  this  pony  were  mine,  the  first 
thing  I  should  do  would  be  to  clip  his  wings." 

But  the  poor  maiden  said  nothing,  for  she  had 
always  the  luck  to  be  afraid  at  the  wrong  time.     So 


230  THE  CHIMERA. 

she  ran  away  and  let  her  pitcher  tumble  down  and 
broke  it. 

"Where  is  the  gentle  child,"  asked  Bellerophon, 
"  who  used  to  keep  me  company,  and  never  lost  his 
faith,  and  never  was  weary  of  gazing  into  the  foun- 
tain?" 

"Here  am  I,  dear  Bellerophon!"  said  the  child 
softly. 

For  the  little  boy  had  spent  day  after  day  on  the 
margin  of  Pirene,  waiting  for  his  friend  to  come 
back ;  but  when  he  perceived  Bellerophon  descending 
through  the  clouds  mounted  on  the  winged  horse,  he 
had  shrunk  back  into  the  shrubbery.  He  was  a  del- 
icate and  tender  child,  and  dreaded  lest  the  old  man 
and  the  country  fellow  should  see  the  tears  gushing 
from  his  eyes. 

"Thou  hast  won  the  \ictory,"  said  he  joyfully, 
running  to  the  knee  of  Bellerophon,  who  still  sat  on 
the  back  of  Pegasus.     "  I  knew  thou  wouldst." 

"Yes,  dear  child!"  replied  Bellerophon,  alighting 
from  the  winged  horse.  "  But  if  thy  faith  had  not 
helped  me,  I  should  never  have  waited  for  Pegasus, 
and  never  have  gone  up  above  the  clouds,  and  never 
have  conquered  the  terrible  Chim^era.  Thou,  my 
beloved  little  friend,  hast  done  it  all.  And  now  let 
us  give  Pegasus  his  liberty." 

So  he  slipt  off  the  enchanted  bridle  from  the  head 
of  the  marvellous  steed. 


TEE  CHIMERA,  231 

"Be  free  for  evermore,  my  Pegasus!"  cried  he, 
-^rith  a  shade  of  sadness  in  his  tone.  "  Be  as  free  as 
thou  art  fleet." 

But  Pegasus  rested  his  head  on  Bellerophon's 
shoulder,  and  would  not  be  persuaded  to  take  flight. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Bellerophon,  caressing  the  airy 
horse,  "  thou  shalt  be  with  me  as  long  as  thou  wilt, 
and  we  will  go  together  forthwith,  and  tell  'King 
lobates  that  the  Chimaera  is  destroyed." 

Then  Bellerophon  embraced  the  gentle  child  and 
promised  to  come  to  him  again,  and  departed.  But 
in  after  years  that  child  took  higher  flights  upon  the 
aerial  steed  than  ever  did  Bellerophon,  and  achieved 
more  honorable  deeds  than  his  friend's  victory  over 
the  Chimaera,  for,  gentle  and  tender  as  he  was,  h© 
grew  to  be  a  mighty  poet. 


BALD  SUMMIT. 

AFTER  THE   STORY. 


Eustace  Bright  told  the  legend  of  Bellerophon 
with  as  much  fervor  and  animation  as  if  he  had  really 
been  taking  a  gallop  on  the  winged  horse.  At  the 
conclusion  he  was  gratified  to  discern  by  the  glowing 
countenances  of  his  auditors  how  greatly  they  had 
been  interested.  All  their  eyes  were  dancing  in  their 
heads  except  those  of  Primrose.  In  her  eyes  there 
were  positively  tears,  for  she  was  conscious  of  some- 
thing in  the  legend  which  the  rest  of  them  were  not 
yet  old  enough  to  feel.  Child's  story  as  it  was,  the 
student  had  contrived  to  breathe  through  it  the  ardor, 
th^  generous  hope,  and  the  imaginative  enterprise  of 
youth. 

"I  forgive  you  now.  Primrose,"  said  he,  "for  all 
your  ridicule  of  myself  and  my  stories.  One  tear  pays 
for  a  great  deal  of  laughter." 

"Well,  Mr.  Bright,"  answered  Primrose,  wiping 
her  eyes  and  giving  him  another  of  her  mischievous 


BALD  SUMMIT.  333 

smiles,  "  it  certainly  does  elevate  your  ideas  to  get  your 
head  above  the  clouds.  I  advise  you  never  to  tell 
another  story  unless  it  be,  as  at  present,  from  the  top 
of  a  mountain." 

"  Or  from  the  back  of  Pegasus,"  replied  Eustace, 
laughing.  "  Don't  you  think  that  I  succeeded  pretty 
well  in  catching  that  wonderful  pony?" 

"It  was  so  like  one  of  your  madcap  pranks!" 
cried  Primrose,  clapping  her  hands.  "  I  think  I  see 
you  now  on  his  back,  two  miles  high  and  with  your 
head  downward!  It  is  well  that  you  have  not  really 
an  opportunity  of  trying  your  horsemanship  on  any 
wilder  steed  than  our  sober  Davy  or  Old  Hundred." 

'•  For  my  part,  I  wish  I  had  Pegasus  here  at  this 
moment,"  said  the  student.  "I  would  mount  him 
forthwith,  and  gallop  about  the  country  within  a 
circumference  of  a  few  miles,  making  literary  calls  on 
my  brother  authors.  Dr.  Dewey  would  be  within  my 
reach  at  the  foot  of  Taconic.  In  Stockbridge  yonder 
is  Mr.  James,  conspicuous  to  all  the  world  on  his 
mountain-pile  of  history  and  romance.  Longfellow, 
I  believe,  is  not  yet  at  the  Ox-bow,  else  the  winged 
horse  would  neigh  at  the  sight  of  him.  But  here  in 
Lenox  I  should  find  our  most  truthful  novelist,  who 
has  made  the  scenery  and  life  of  Berkshire  all  her 
own.  On  the  hither  side  of  Pittsfield  sits  Herman 
Melville,  shaping  out  the  gigantic  conception  of  his 
'White  Whale,'  while  the  gigantic  shape  of  Graylock 


234  BALD  SUMMIT. 

looms  upon  him  from  his  study-window.  Another 
bound  of  my  flying  steed  would  bring  me  to  the  door 
of  Holmes,  whom  I  mention  last  because  Pegasus 
would  certainly  unseat  me  the  next  minute  and  claim 
the  poet  as  his  rider." 

"Have  we  not  an  author  for  our  next  neighbor?" 
asked  Primrose — "  that  silent  man  who  lives  in  the 
old  red  house  near  Tanglewood  Avenue,  and  whom 
we  sometimes  meet,  with  two  children  at  his  side,  in 
the  woods  or  at  the  lake?  I  think  I  have  heard  of 
his  having  written  a  poem  or  a  romance  or  an  arith- 
metic or  a  school  history  or  some  other  kind  of  a 
book." 

"Hush,  Primrose,  hush !"  exclaimed  Eustace  in  a 
thrilling  whisper,  and  putting  his  finger  on  his  lip. 
"  Not  a  word  about  that  man,  even  on  a  hilltop !  If 
our  babble  was  to  reach  his  ears  and  happen  not  to 
please  him,  he  has  but  to  fling  a  quire  or  two  of 
paper  into  the  stove,  and  you,  Primrose,  and  I,  and 
Periwinkle,  Sweet  Fern,  Squash-blossom,  Blue  Eye, 
Huckleberry,  Clover,  Cowslip,  Plantain,  Milkweed, 
Dandelion,  and  Buttercup — yes,  and  wise  Mr.  Pringle 
with  his  unfavorable  criticisms  on  my  legends,  and 
poor  Mrs.  Pringle  too — would  all  turn  to  smoke  and 
go  whisking  up  the  funnel !  Our  neighbor  in  the  red 
house  is  a  harmless  sort  of  person  enough,  for  aught 
I  know,  as  concerns  the  rest  of  the  world,  but  some- 
thing whispers  to  me  that  he  has  a  terrible  power 


BALD  SUMMIT.  235 

over  ourselves,  extending  to  nothing  short  of  annihil- 
iation." 

*'  And  vrould  Tanglewood  turn  to  smoke  as  well  as 
we?"  asked  Periwinkle,  quite  appalled  at  the  threat- 
ened destruction.  "  And  what  would  become  of  Ben 
and  Bruin?" 

"Tanglewood  would  remain,"  replied  the  student,'- 
"looking  just  as  it  does  now,  but  occupied  by  an 
entirely  different  family.  And  Ben  and  Bruin  woul(^ 
be  still  alive,  and  would  make  themselves  very  com- 
fortable with  the  bones  from  the  dinner-table,  without 
ever  thinking  of  the  good  times  which  they  and  we 
have  had  together." 

"What  nonsense  you  are  talking!"  exclaimed 
Primrose. 

With  idle  chat  of  this  kind,  the  party  had  already 
begun  to  descend  the  hill,  and  were  now  within  the 
shadow  of  the  woods.  Primrose  gathered  some 
mountain-laurel,  the  leaf  of  which,  though  of  last 
year's  growth,  was  still  as  verdant  and  elastic  as  if 
the  frost  and  thaw  had  not  alternately  tried  their 
force  upon  its  texture.  Of  these  twigs  of  laurel  she 
twined  a  wreath  and  took  off  the  student's  cap  in 
order  to  place  it  on  his  brow. 

"  Nobody  else  is  likely  to  crown  you  for  your  stories,** 
observed  saucy  Primrose,  "so  take  this  from  me." 

"Do  not  be  too  sure,  answered  Eustace,  looking 
really  like  a  youthful  poet  with  the  laurel  among  his 


2.S6  BALD  SUMMIT.  ^ 

glossy  curls,  "  that  I  shall  not  win  other  wreaths  bt 
these  wonderful  and  admirable  stories.  I  mean  to 
spend  all  my  leisure  during  the  rest  of  the  Tacation 
and  throughout  the  summer  term  at  college  in  writing 
them  out  for  the  press.  Mr.  J.  T.  Fields  (with 
whom  I  became  acquainted  when  he  was  in  Berkshire 
]ast  summer,  and  who  is  a  poet  as  well  as  a  publisher) 
will  see  their  uncommon  merit  at  a  glance.  He  wili 
get  them  illustrated,  I  hope,  by  Billings,  and  will 
bring  them  before  the  world  under  the  very  best  of 
auspices,  through  the  eminent  house  of  Ticknor  &  Co. 
In  about  five  months  from  this  moment  I  make  no 
doubt  of  being  reckoned  among  the  lights  of  the  age." 

"Poor  boy!"  said  Primrose,  half  aside.  "  What  s 
disappointment  awaits  him!" 

Descending  a  little  lower.  Bruin  began  to  bark, 
and  was  answered  by  the  graver  bow-wow  of  the  re- 
spectable Ben. 

They  soon  saw  the  good  old  dog  keeping  careful 
watch  over  Dandelion,  Sweet  Fern,  Cowslip,  and 
Squash-blossom.  These  little  people,  quite  recovered 
from  their  fatigue,  had  set  about  gathering  checker- 
berries,  and  now  came  clambering  to  meet  their  play 
fellows.  Thus  reunited,  the  whole  party  went  down 
through  Luther  Butler's  orchard  and  made  the  best 
of  their  way  home  to  Tanglewood. 


YA  04462 


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